


The Lonely

by autumnmycat



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Human, Body Image, Cutting, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7845757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnmycat/pseuds/autumnmycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pearl can be a corps member of Beach City Ballet and still be a failure, as she has found out. She can never quite be good enough at dancing, at starving, at anything. After all, how could she ever be good enough if she was never good enough for Her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you start a fic, lose interest, and then pick it up a year later. Yikes. 
> 
> TW: eating disorders, self harm

“She’s gone.”

Pearl’s eyes flicked up. Her body tensed. She couldn’t have heard that correctly. She couldn’t have left her—

“What do you mean?” 

The only indication that Garnet was aggravated was her clenched fists.

“I mean,” she paused as if Pearl could only understand her if she spoke slowly, “she’s _gone_.”

 

* * *

 

_And one, and two, and three — and — four…_

This piece annoyed her; it was too fast and there was too much syncopation. The music blared with loud cords and mismatched counts. Her feet struggled to keep up. 

“C’mon, Pearl—” the rehearsal director barked.

 _—You lazy fat ass,_ Pearl finished her thought silently.

Yes, yes, she knew she wasn’t any good at anything choreographed by Balanchine, but then why did she keep getting cast in the pieces? She was just a _corps_ member, and they could very well do without her. The director said she had potential. Pearl believed that she was just saying that to save what was left of her ego, not that she had much of one to begin with.

But, even though she knew she was no good, she pushed a bit harder, keeping in time with those god awful counts. She counted them just to know she was another second closer to being done. Her muscles liked to tell her that they were fatigued. She pressed on regardless.

… _and eight, and nine, and ten — and, a — one, and two, and a, three, four, five…_

Pearl caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror. She frowned. The rehearsal director noticed.

“Smile, girls, _smile!_ ”

 _Smile so no one can tell how you actually feel, right?_ That’s what Pearl assumed she meant. Her smile was fake, at best. Who could smile when you were forced inside of _this body,_ forced to look like _this_ —

“Okay, okay,” the director clapped, making sure the pianist and dancers knew that they had fucked up so hard that the only option was to completely stop the dance half way through. “Girls, your technique is subpar today.”

“What else is new?” Lapis whispered to her fellow _corps_ member. She said it quiet enough that only Pearl could hear. If the director heard, that would be a disaster.

“I expect better from you.”

Her eyes went straight to Pearl, but she pretended not to notice (even though she did). She fiddled with her waist belt nervously.

Another clap, another sigh of exasperation.

“We’ll pick up tomorrow. We have to finish setting the piece by Friday. The gala is next week.” 

She said it as if they didn’t know that. It was a daunting fact, one they would not easily forget.

Yet, no one so much as batted an eye. They just nodded and left the room, already taking down their hair and fiddling with the ribbons on their shoes. 

It was nights like these that Pearl wondered why she still tried. She was not good enough to be in this company at all, yet there she was, part of the BCB _corps de ballet_. It was a dream come true. Or it should have been a dream come true. She let herself believe it was.

After the long rehearsal, she was exhausted and half-heartedly said goodbye to her fellow dancers. They were all as annoyed as she was, but at least they had the energy to walk home. Pearl tried that a few times, but she couldn’t do it. It was too difficult after dancing all day. So, she had Garnet pick her up at night. There was something comforting about seeing her big maroon truck pull up to the side of the building.

But that night, Garnet was not there. 

Pearl waited outside by the road for fifteen minutes with no sign of Garnet anywhere in sight. She frowned and walked to the boardwalk side of the building and looked at her phone.

_No messages._

Great.

Her eyes flicked from the brightly lit screen to the waves of the ocean, trying to remain calm and not let her exasperation bring tears to her eyes. Finding a bench, she sat herself down and pretended like she was not rubbing her cheeks to get rid of the rebellion in the form of black streaks. That’s what she got for not wearing waterproof mascara, she mused.

After a few minutes of listening to the waves crash on the shore, she finally broke down, choking on her own breath and shuddering against the icy winds that blew off the water. She just hated this — this and that and everything. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

Pearl whipped around, practically falling off her place on the bench.

“Why are you crying?”

The voice belonged to a boy — a boy who looked to be about the age of nine or ten. He had a head of humorously curly hair and a red shirt that was almost as obnoxious as the worried look in his eyes. 

“I’m not” — _sniff_ — “crying.”

“That’s not what it looks like to me,” he persisted, walking up to the pale dancer. “You look really sad. What’s wrong?”

What annoyed Pearl the most was how earnest the boy was. He wasn’t condescending. If anything, he actually sounded like he cared about how she felt. She didn’t exactly know how to respond to such kindness.

“Nothing,” she precisely lied (since she was quite good at lying). “I’m just very tired.”

“Ohh, you were dancing in there, weren’t you?”

Her eyebrows raised.

“Um, yeah, I was.”

Immediately, his face brightened, and he bounded happily over to the bench where Pearl sat and plopped himself next to her. 

“I didn’t recognize you at first, but now I do,” the boy beamed. “You’re really good! I was watching through the big window. Does it hurt to go on your toes like that?”

Pearl gaped. The boy was…actually impressed by her?

“I-I…I mean, no, it doesn’t really hurt all the time,” she explained, glancing to the pair of pointe shoes dangling from her dance bag. “But at the end of the night, it does. When you’ve been working all day, I mean.”

“Woooow,” he gasped, looking at her with stars in his eyes. “Are those your shoes?” He pointed to them, his excitement ever building. “Can I see them?” 

“O-Of course. But, they are a bit…fragrant.”

She untied them from their place on the bag strap and handed them over with a bit of hesitance.

“Wow, cool!” he marveled, looking inside them and playing with the ribbons. “I can’t believe you dance in these! It seems like it would be so hard.”

“It is hard,” she chuckled, taking her shoes back from the boy and restoring them to their proper position. “It looks easy on the outside, but on the inside it’s terrible.”

That statement seemed to dim the boy's excitement considerably.

“But you said it doesn’t hurt too bad.”

“Not always,” Pearl sighed. “But it’s very strenuous. It takes decades of work to be ‘good enough,’ and even then, you’re really never good enough.”

“Oh, no, that’s terrible.” He seemed completely beside himself with distress. “Is that why you’re crying?”

A wisp of a smile crossed her lips.

“Yes, that, and a million other things.” 

“Like what?”

His persistence was off-putting.

“Uh, like, my friend is supposed to pick me up, but she never came.” 

“Oh no.” His frown lit up into a jubilant smile only a second later. Pearl assumed that this was his figurative ‘light bulb’ appearing over his head. “Wait! My dad could give you a ride. He’s got a van and everything!”

“O-Oh, no, that’s not necessary—“

“No, no, no,” he chided her, grabbing her wrist and forcing her upright. “I insist!”

Before she knew what was happening, she was being dragged by this small boy, her head spinning and vision swimming from the sudden change in positions.

After a few moments, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I’m Steven, by the way. What’s your name?” 

“Pearl.”

“Pearl,” he parroted, “I think we’re going to be really great friends.”

This caused the small woman to laugh. “Yes, Steven, I think we will be.”

But, just as they were about to leave the boardwalk, Pearl’s phone lit up and started singing a slow piano tune. (The Lilac Fairy variation from Sleeping Beauty was Pearl's favorite music growing up.)

“Oh, wait, Steven,” Pearl said, holding out her hand and getting the boy to stop.

“Huh?” 

She flipped open her phone, pressing it to her ear.

“Hello?” 

“ _Pearl, where are you?_ ” Garnet’s low but soft voice carried through her phone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just by the beach. I’ll come around in a second.”

They both hung up because it was their habit to never say goodbye.

“Who was that?” Steven asked, tilting his head, eyes still wide with wonder.

“My roommate, Garnet. She’s who I was waiting for,” Pearl explained, turning in the opposite direction. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Steven’s smile reappeared as he waved big enough to shake his entire body. “That’s okay! You can meet my dad another time.”

“Sure,” she smiled back. “Goodbye, Steven.”

“Bye!!”

As she was walking away, Pearl had to wonder what she did to deserve that little beam of sunlight with curly hair and a star on his shirt.

 

* * *

 

“How was rehearsal?” Garnet asked when Pearl closed the door to her truck.

She felt better than she did before, but not by much. 

With a heaving sigh, she leaned back in her seat and let out a groan. “We’re still setting that wretched Balanchine piece.” 

“Oh, that asshole who married all his dancers?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why everyone tries to force his pieces on us. All I know is I’m horrible at them.” She picked at her nail beds.

“I’m sure you are good enough at them because they cast you,” Garnet replied cautiously.

“Oh, but if only you could see the look on her face when we’re rehearsing. She hates me. I’m so slow, ugh. Maybe because I’m so tall? I don’t know.”

They all knew that the real answer is because she has no energy. Garnet was honestly surprised she hadn’t completely fallen apart by now.

(Pearl would never admit it, but she felt the same way.)

“Are you tired?”

“Always.”

“Well, after dinner, you can get to bed early.”

Pearl sank deeper in her seat, hoping she could disappear completely. But, of course, that isn’t possible. 

Unfortunately.

 

* * *

 

She walked in the door after Garnet, unceremoniously dropping her dance bag on the floor. 

She stopped, anxiety gripping her.

She could already smell it. The comforting, alluring smell of melted cheese hit her square in the stomach. Every time she felt like this she imagined her stomach ripping open and inverting on itself. Was it even hunger anymore?

(She didn’t even remember what not feeling hungry felt like.)

But, it was just another challenge. Another piece to master. Another dance to perfect. Pearl would be the master of threading her way through lies and empty stomachs even if it killed her.

They all watched her as she entered the room, spotted the pizza, and looked away. It was literally a choreographed dance. Don’t look at Amethyst and the pizza already on her plate, the pizza already half gone. Ignore the feeling of fear that pricks the back of her head, the one that says ( _The Pizza is almost gone, you’re going to starve, don’t let her eat it all_ ) even though Pearl doesn’t want a bit of it. Walk over to the counter and carefully start assembling her pot of green tea because that’s all she gets to eat after doing badly in rehearsal. 

They watched her when she sat down at the table, picking up the newspaper and waiting for the water to boil.

Amethyst ate another piece of pizza. Pearl felt her eyes on her. Garnet was washing something in the sink.

It was silent until the kettle whistled, and she got up to pour the water over the strainer.

And, the silence returned when she sat down again. It was really quite deafening, but all in all, it was a well-performed piece, don’t you think? 

But, Amethyst broke her form.

“P, why aren’t you eating?” Amethyst asked as she shoved a gigantic piece of pizza down her throat. She didn’t chew it very much. It was rather sickening.

The piece was ruined.

“I told you, I hate eating,” Pearl spat with a little too much venom. She was perfectly fine with her little pot of tea that she sipped gingerly when she wasn’t busy being grossed out by the amount of food the younger girl was eating. “It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, you need food to live so…” In went another slice of fat, carbs, and refined sugars along with a guzzle of some sort of bright green soda.

“ _You_ might need to,” Pearl hummed, keeping her eyes focused on the paper, “But I don’t.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Garnet interrupted, sitting down at the table and grabbing her own slice from the box propped in front of them. “Everyone needs to eat.”

“Sure.”

Pearl’s grunt of an answer made both Amethyst and Garnet frown.

The truth was that they were worried about Pearl. She had always been thin, always not too fond of food, but lately, those attributes had been amplified. Her clothes were falling off her. The lines of her face became sharper, her eyes more sunken. She couldn’t walk home at night because her dance rehearsals were too exhausting for her. 

(Most days, she flat out refused to eat.)

Pearl exhibited all the signs that she had “a problem,” but none of them knew exactly what the problem was or what to do about it.

Silence continued to hang over them. Pearl pretended not to notice.

“Pearl,” Garnet began, “I can understand if you don’t want pizza. We can always make something else.” 

She waved her off, saying, “Oh, no, it’s quite fine.” She continued to read the paper.

Amethyst and Garnet shared a glance. “ _Fine”_ was not the word they would have used to describe the situation.

“ _Pearl_.”

The urgency in Garnet’s voice caught Pearl off guard, and it forced her to look up to piercing eyes. Garnet had taken her sunglasses off. Both Garnet and Amethyst were _looking at her_ like she had just done something to personally upset the both of them, but Pearl was doing nothing but minding her own business.

They didn’t have to say anything. Pearl knew the drill.

Instead of letting herself be lectured, Pearl got up from the table and decided she should take Garnet's advice and get ready for bed early.

 

* * *

 

 _Disgusting_.

Lines, dulled by age, ran down her stomach. She hated these lines. They were proof that she could not control herself no matter how hard she tried. Her fingers traced the cuts, the old and the new, a grimace appearing every so often when she pushed too hard against her breached skin.

Then, she allowed her fingers to dance over her ribs, counting them to make sure they were still there. Her hands felt the hollow of her stomach, the protrusion of her hip bones. Good, she thought, she still took up _not enough space_ /too much space.

This was the reward, then. The satisfaction of knowing you are thinner than other people. You will never be thin _enough_ , but you can scare people with your death-like appearance. People can marvel about how little you can eat and how much you can do. You are other-worldly, nothing can hurt you, you will never die.

(Until you do.)

She forgot she was hungry again. It was never worth eating. It was just not worth it.

Already showered, she brushed her teeth, and practically collapsed into bed, losing herself to a familiar and welcomed dreamless slumber.

(Tomorrow, she'll start the whole thing again.)

 

 


	2. Don't Deserve It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She counts calories and works hard (and makes herself into nothing).
> 
> But, she can never work hard enough because she doesn't deserve the satisfaction.
> 
> (She hasn't deserved to feel happy since before she can remember.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: eating disorders, cutting, depictions of past sexual abuse

Wake up at 7 a.m. 

Stretch. Do abs. Do another set of abs because you lost count and if you lose count you have to start over (sorry, she doesn’t make the rules).

Go to the bathroom (if you can). Step on the scale. Either leap for joy or hold back tears as it spits out a number.

(Pearl held back tears today.) 

Get dressed, put your hair in a ponytail.

Eat two egg whites and half a grapefruit.

(82 kcals.)

( _You don’t even deserve that much._ )

Listen to the negative thoughts as you strap on your running shoes and run five miles because that’s all you can do without getting dizzy and falling over. 

(Don’t enjoy the ocean spray on your skin because you are not allowed to enjoy anything about yourself or the life you live.)

Get home (barely). Shower.

(Take your razors and slice your skin open to show the world you’ve failed once again.)

Slip on pink tights (but not too pink), and put on your leotard that fits a little tighter than it did yesterday but (you have no concept of what you actually look like so you are not sure if the cotton has shrunk or you have gotten bigger overnight). 

Get a ride that you don’t deserve from the person you don’t deserve in your life to go dance for the company you don’t deserve to be in.

Fail for eight hours. 

( _You will never be a soloist_.)

Take out your hair and take off your pointe shoes. Ignore your bloody foot because you know it’s just that damn blister you can’t get to heal fast enough. 

Sit on the bench and wait for that person you don’t deserve to come get you.

Listen to the boy who radiates with a happiness you don’t deserve.

 

* * *

 

When Pearl sat down on the bench, Steven was already waiting for her. He kicked his legs that didn’t touch the ground and looked up at her.

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Pearl lied again. She always lied when she talked to Steven. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing _great!_ Today, at school, we learned about _fossils!_ ”

She couldn’t help but smile. He was so happy.

(Pearl couldn’t remember the last time she felt anything but loneliness.)

Where did happiness go?

 _She_ took it with her.

“Oh, yeah? What did you learn about them?”

He leaped up and ran in front of her so he could accurately pantomime his explanation. His arms waved a bit wildly.

“Well, they’re things that used to be alive but they died a long, long time ago. Like, _millions and billions_ of years ago! And, all that’s left of them is bones and teeth. They’re like dinosaurs and birds and fish and animals and stuff.” 

“Wow, that’s really interesting, Steven,” she smiled, patting him on the head as he ran over to her. “I can tell you’re really smart and going to do really great things when you get older.”

He looked up at her like she was suddenly this pinnacle of truth and virtue; eyes so wide, they might as well have fallen out of his head. 

“You really think so?”

“Of course. You love to learn, and that’s what matters.”

“Wow, thanks, Pearl! You’re really sweet and nice.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. He was so innocent.

(She hated to think when life would take that away from him.)

Her phone lit up.

“Guess you have to go,” Steven mumbled, looking from her phone back up to her face.

“Yes, but I’ll be back tomorrow, and you can tell me what you learned in school.”

That seemed to be enough to make his smile pick up again.

“Okay! I’ll learn extra hard for you, Pearl.”

She laughed and stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. Have a good night, Steven.”

“You too, Pearl!”

 

* * *

 

That night was one of those nights that Pearl remembered that she was not like the other dancers.

When she got in the car, the mood was different.

Garnet put a hand on her thigh.

“I missed you today,” she whispered, looking at her through her sunglasses (even though it was night time).

Pearl’s breath caught in her throat.

“I-I missed you too.”

See, dancers are not gay. Not female dancers at least. They simply don’t exist. 

(Or, more so, they aren’t allowed to exist.)

It was her biggest secret. Well, one of them.

She would never admit that she was sleeping with women before most teenage girls sleep with men. She would be met with too much resistance, and if the news traveled upwards, which it most certainly would, she might lose her position.

So, that was why she never talked about it.

All in all, that didn’t change the fact that she loved to fuck Garnet.

It was one of those things she took pride in because she was really good at it.

Unlike ballet, sex was more like a game, and Pearl was good at games. She loved the power dynamic, the control she had over people when she was pleasuring them. It was all strategy. She could get people to do things that they wouldn’t do otherwise. And, she could make people care about her, but she didn’t like to think about that aspect of it too much.

And Garnet, well, Garnet was very lovely. Her skin was soft, and her voice was velvet. Pearl loved to touch her, loved to pull words from her mouth.

“ _Uh,_ fuck, Pearl—"

Pearl wasn’t really sure if she “got off” on it, per say, but she did enjoy it. She would push against Garnet’s hand as she roughly handled her hair. Pearl would bury herself deeper into her when she felt Garnet’s thick legs shake around her shoulders. She would keep licking her even after she so elegantly and graciously came. She loved everything about it: the experience, the thrill, the power—

The problem with all this was, of course, that Pearl hated getting fucked _._

She hated being naked in front of anyone, let alone someone she cared about. Pearl would cringe when Garnet’s hands peeled off her tank top and panties and prayed Garnet wasn’t thinking how ugly/fat/disgusting she was. She was sure that anyone who laid their eyes on her would immediately be repulsed, so it was always strange to Pearl why Garnet wanted to do anything to her at all.

She would beg for Garnet not to — “Please, Garnet, not now, please…” — she would try to get out of it, but Garnet was not one to let Pearl eat her out without returning the favor in some way. But, Pearl just hated to have things inside her, hated what everyone else found to be pleasurable, hated having her body turned against her. She squirmed as Garnet’s mouth traveled over her body. She hooked her fingers in Garnet’s soft, curly hair, and let the tears build behind her eyelids.

The whole experience was mortifying.

There was a split second where Pearl felt as though she might break, might snap into two beings, the one that loved the attention and the gratification and the one that hated everything about this gluttony, about succumbing to her base desires. It was overwhelming, and it was too much for her to tolerate.

“Garnet, please don’t!” she cried loudly enough that it scared the older woman from between her legs.

Blue eyes stared back at her, fear creeping into them as she realized that Pearl was crying. She looked beyond panicked — Pearl’s strawberry blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face with sweat, mascara trails staining her pale cheeks.

(She should really invest in some waterproof makeup.)

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she forced out between sobs. “Please, just…please don’t.”

Immediately, Garnet’s face went from shocked to calculating. She was probably realizing she was just used in a ploy to gain temporary, artificial affection.

“Why do you attend to me, but you deny any attention?”

Words threatened to spill from Pearl’s mouth (just so Garnet wouldn’t look so _cold_ , so stoic), but she knew she did not have the will to admit anything.

(Especially not about the pain of open palms on bare skin, or losing her innocence to _her_ fingers, or the fucking pain of not being fucking loved back.)

A wisp of truth fluttered from her lips amongst all the turmoil in her head.

“Why do I deserve it?”

Garnet balked, eyes widening as big as Pearl had ever seen them. Immediately, Pearl retracted, hiding her face beneath pale hands. She could feel the tears spilling down her cheeks. She didn’t want Garnet to see.

“Pearl, what does this have to do with _deserving_ anything?”

After a few minutes and a few sniffs, she regained the ability to speak.

“I—You…You’re so beautiful and strong, and I want to give everything to you. But, I’m…what am I? I’m a nuisance, I make everything difficult for you and Amethyst.” Another sob wracked her body, and she evaded Garnet’s piercing blue eyes. “I don’t deserve you to give me anything, let alone _this_.”

Pearl couldn’t see it in Garnet’s face, but this performance was really quite heartbreaking. Garnet cared for Pearl quite deeply, and to see her break down, purely because she disliked herself so much, was almost too much to bear. 

Her larger hand took Pearl’s chin and tilted it upwards. Pearl stopped crying.

“You deserve the world, Pearl.”

Before more tears could leak down the other girl’s face, Garnet wrapped her arms around Pearl and clutched her into an embrace. 

(Garnet couldn’t help but wonder if she might accidently break her.)

 

* * *

 

Pearl didn’t usually dream, but that night, she did.

It was the one that usually haunted her.

_Rose raises her hand. It smacks Pearl across the face. It burns, but Pearl smiles anyway, giggling at the pool of butterflies in her stomach._

_“You like this?” she asks, looking at her hand as if it were not attached to her body._

_“I love anything you do to me, Rose.” She says this honestly._

_Pearl knows this isn’t right, that she shouldn’t say those things because there is no doubt in her mind that Rose will try anything on Pearl if she lets her._

_(And she would let her.)_

_The words slip out of her mouth: “Please, Rose, I love you.”_

_Pearl is a day past sixteen, barely able to manage her own autonomy let alone someone else’s. She has no concept of what love is. Her parents have never shown it towards her or each other. She has never been in a relationship where she was not dependent on another for her self-worth._

_Yet, knowing this, Rose still lets her eyes soften and responds, “I love you, too, my Pearl.”_

_The girl lets herself be turned to her stomach. Rose’s heavy girth presses Pearl’s body against the bed. She winces as an open palm lands on her bare skin. She cries out as thick fingers spread and enter her. Every thrust inside her brings tears to her eyes._

_But, she does it for her. It wasn’t like she was doing it for herself, anyway._

_(She never does anything for herself, anyway.)_

 


	3. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Push too hard. Push and push until you can't anymore. 
> 
> Until you are ripping apart at the seams. Until your brain oozes out of your mouth and through your eye sockets. 
> 
> (He's soft and kind—just like her. How did she not see it before?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of underage sex, ED-mentions

Her alarm didn’t go off because it was Sunday, and Sunday was the only day she didn’t have to dance all day, so she allowed herself to sleep in. It felt good, but she always felt so _guilty_. It was so self-indulgent to wake up at noon (especially knowing she was going to have to run 10 miles to make up for the lack of exercise). 

Pearl rolled over and looked at the sun peering through the blinds, and she was just so exhausted. She felt like she could sleep for a thousand years.

Her eyes shut.

She doesn’t dream of her this time.

 

* * *

 

She was woken up by a knock on her door.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, trying to get her vision to focus. She groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Pearl?” Garnet’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

She sat up in bed, trying to register everything. Slowly, she began to realize she fucked up. The sun was setting. The clock flashed 6:02 pm.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” she whispered, throwing her covers off of her. Rushing over to the door, she threw it open to reveal Garnet standing stoically in the doorway. “G-Garnet—”

“You slept all day. I got worried,” she said in a flat tone. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was that Garnet rarely showed much emotion at all. Pearl had learned not to take it personally. 

“Yeah, I have no idea what happened.”

(Could she not see how hard she was pushing herself?)

She rushed past Garnet and shut the bathroom door. 

She weighed herself. (Down a pound.) Normally this would light up her brain, but Pearl sighed because the joy of being thinner didn’t erase that she slept her damn day away, and she still needed to run 10 miles.

(Guilt/guilt/blame/fault/fault/fault)

More rushing. She rushed her ab workout, only doing half of what she would normally.

She clamored down the stairs, pulling her hair back in a high ponytail. Garnet and Amethyst watched from the living room as Pearl ran around in her leggings and tank top, wildly searching for her running shoes. She spotted them, strapped them on, flew out the door. 

(Pearl forgot to eat again.)

She ran. Her feet slammed the ground. 

( _Stupid, stupid, stupid, lazy whore, dumb slut, stupidstupidstupid—_ )

She tried really hard to not burst into tears right there because she knew something else would make her feel worse, and what is the use of crying other than showing others that you're a failure, that you're  _weak?_ She already had done so much crying in the past few days. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she couldn’t will the dams in her eyelids to lock into place.

_Bap-bap, bap-bap, bap-bap._

Running usually made it better, cleared her head, but it wasn’t helping because most of her negative thoughts were redirecting themselves back to _her_ , and there’s not a lot of hope or happiness surrounding— 

Heh, she can’t even think about her name.

( _About how she left._ )

It wasn’t her fault that Pearl was like this. She had been digging her own grave since the tender age of fourteen, but there was something about being tossed aside by the only person that cared about her that managed to scoop out a big portion of her heart and let it drop to the pavement and melt in the sun. 

(She can’t even blame her. Pearl had always been utterly undesirable in every possible form. Maybe she was good at building up her ego because of how pathetic Pearl always was.)

She hated to even think about her like that. She was a good person. There was no doubt in Pearl’s mind that she _meant_ _well_ , she just didn’t understand the consequences of her actions. 

And, it didn’t help that Pearl never forgave her for fucking dying. 

Pearl had lost track of the miles. Her head was spinning even though she had slept for at least eighteen hours. She was by the boardwalk, at least. Stores and restaurants lined the beach—

(Fries/burgers/pizza/fish/all beautiful/all horrid.)

At some point, she had stopped running. She was walking, or more accurately, limping. Her bum knee was bothering her again (fucking tendonitis). And, a tiny telephone rang incessantly between her ears and made her dizzy.

Amethyst’s voice ran through her head, ‘ _You gotta eat, P_.’

(Yes, she knew that, she _knew that_. Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone? Why couldn’t they all just leave her alone—to let her _die_ —)

The running narrative was that Pearl didn’t like to eat and didn’t need to eat, but that would be a lie. Pearl had never been a huge fan of food, but nothing like a little starving to make you want/need/obsess over/dream about food.

Her body was very good at rebelling, at telling her that (YOU ARE A HUMAN), but the art of insanity was to ignore that fact and continue on like she was invincible, which was very clearly a lie.

She limped over to a bench and flopped down, leaning forward and massaging the quadriceps that connected to the tendon, which pulled at her kneecap. Looking up at the almost completely black sky, Pearl tried to pretend like she wasn’t actively falling apart at the seams. 

(It was a hard thing to ignore because every part of her body screamed at her.) 

_~~I’m so hungry I’m so hungry Why Why Why Whywhywhywhy~~ _

But, Pearl was strong. She could do anything. 

(Except, she couldn’t do anything.) 

After a second, she realized that someone was calling her name.

“—arl! Hey, Pearl! Peeeeaaaarrrl!”

Running towards her from the left was Steven, bounding with his usual jubilance towards the tiny woman.

“Oh, Steven—”

He could run much faster than she could (which made her sad). He was already in front of her.

“Whatcha doin’? You’re not usually out this early.”

Pearl half smiled, half frowned, trying not to let on about the inner turmoil slamming around in her skull.

“Running,” was all she could get out.

“Oh! Running is fun! I do that too. But, I thought you danced.” He seemed honestly confused as if the two activities were mutually exclusive.

“I do both. And, I have Sundays off from dance.” She sighed and tried to keep her mouth shut, but she was very sad and needed to say anything/anything/anything. “I slept all day. I was going to do things today, but I messed up.”

(Guilty/guilty/guilty)

Steven tilted his head and sat down next to her, looking thoughtful. “Well, that’s okay. You have to take care of yourself, and if you need to sleep all day, sometimes that’s what you need to do. I’m sure you’re really tired because you always try so hard.”

A self-deprecating laugh left her mouth before she could stop it. “Not hard enough.”

Steven looked out at the ocean and kicked his feet like he usually did.

“You know, it’s okay. You can’t give 100% all the time. That’s too tiring.”

She wanted to believe him, to hug him and cry, and have him tell her everything was going to be okay, but she was the adult, and he was the child, and putting that much stress on a kid at least fifteen years her junior was irresponsible at best.

“Thanks, Steven.”

He looked back to her, looking over the lines etched around her eyes and mouth and in her forehead. There was a long pause before he said, “You always look so sad.”

Her head snapped to look at him, unable to hide the surprise in her features.

“Huh?”

“You are really great, and you try really hard, but I don’t think you believe me.”

This time, her frown returns and deepens.

“You’re very observant.”

“I just want everyone to be happy, that’s all.”

Her hand tussled his fluffy hair. ( _ ~~It feels like hers~~_ ) “That’s a hard task, Steven.”

“Okay,” he said, taking a moment to reconsider. “Well, then I just want you to be happy.”

They stared at each other, and it took all of Pearl’s strength not to burst into tears.

“Hey, I know something that will cheer you up,” Steven said, leaping up from the bench and putting his hands on his hips.

“What’s that?”

“Come meet my dad! He likes really good music, and he’ll play his guitar for you if you ask nice.”

“Where does your dad live?” Pearl sighed, eyebrows knitting together a bit. 

“He lives in a van. It’s really cool actually, and it’s roomy enough for the both of us. When I get bored, I just run around the beach.”

This caught Pearl off guard. A van? The boy lived with his father in a _van?_ Was that even legal? Don’t the schools raise a stink if you don’t have a permanent address?

( _ ~~She only knew one other person that lived in a van but there’s no way~~_ )

She let him drag her by the wrist down the boardwalk much like the night they first met. But, tonight, Pearl’s head swam with exhaustion. She found it difficult to keep a steady gait, especially with this energetic boy tugging at her.

It was a bit of a walk, but Steven led them to a small parking lot just off the beach. Pearl was concentrating too hard on not falling over to notice the man or the van in front of them.

But, as per usual, Steven’s voice woke her up.

He smiled with all he could muster and gestured grandly, “This is my dad!”

She pulled out her best smile to match Steven’s enthusiasm, but when her eyes landed on the middle-aged, balding, fat man in front of her, the color drained from Pearl’s face.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, eyes wide as dinner plates. 

The man looked equally as shocked. Sweat ran down the side of his face.

“Pearl,” he choked out.

“G-Greg…”

The pounding of her heart in her ears was making her dizzy. She couldn’t control her breathing. Her eyes couldn’t focus correctly. 

“Dad, you know Pearl?”

Pearl stumbled backward. Her heartbeat was deafening. She felt the blood rushing to her face. The corners of her vision darkened.

This man…he was—he was the one who stole Rose away from her.

“Pearl, are you okay?” 

He had fathered a _child_ with Rose.

(The child that killed her.)

“Dad, I think she’s gonna—“

Her Rose.

Her hearing cut out like the voices of the two Universes were just the ending to a song.

 

 

 

. . .

She woke up, moments later, in (to her horror) Greg’s arms. He was babbling about something, but Pearl couldn’t understand what he was saying. It took a bit of time, but her ears began to work again. 

“—ey, hey, can you hear me, Pearl? What’s wrong? Are you okay—?”

It was a lot for her to process. She now knew it was “all over” in that she could never look at this boy in the eyes again and not want to burst into tears. His earnest, carefree attitude would always grate against her skin and poke needles into her brain. 

And, it saddened her because she really liked Steven.

Pearl opened her mouth to speak, and she realized that she really was a bit messed up because she couldn’t form words correctly.

She managed to get out a weak, “Y-Yes,” but it did nothing to make the fear in both sets of eyes that stared at her to go away.

Greg, even though he knew that Pearl was not too fond of his existence, seemed distressed. He said, “We lost you for a second there. Have you been doing okay?”

With a swallow, she opened her mouth again, “Yes.”

There was a long, long moment of silence where Pearl tried desperately to find the energy/the will to move. She was just so tired.

“You look awful, Pearl,” Greg muttered.

It was then that Pearl registered that Greg’s big hands were holding her, and that (this was probably the same way he held _her_ ). 

“I’m sorry.”

Always apologizing. Always apologizing.

“For what?” Greg’s face cracked into what Pearl can only guess is despair because she knew the look very well from her own reflection.

Finally, she could get up. She scrambled to her feet, head and vision swimming when her blood pressure plummeted.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, turning away from Steven and Greg Universe.

Pearl ran all the way home even though every part of her screamed not to.

(Pearl staggered home. She wanted to scream, and it took all of her energy not to.)

 

* * *

 

Rose was her savior.

When you're a teenager in the throes of depression, the beautiful, talented, flawless college girl with hair that looks like a bouquet of pink flowers can sweep you off your feet quite easily.

Pearl was The Model Student (perfect 4.0 GPA), the pretty petite girl who wears cute dresses and does her makeup every day, the Prima Ballerina.

(Pearl was miserable, miserable, miserable—no time for herself—always working harder, never good enough, never good enough—fat and ugly and _miserable_.)

It was easy to hide that she was in some way different. Boys liked her. She went on dates. She ate at lunch. (She never had boyfriends. She only ate lunch.)

But, there was this woman, this goddess from heaven, that had decided, one day, to take a liking to her.

They met at a rehearsal at Beach City College. It was a partnership with the pre-professional company Pearl was in and BCC’s dance department to put on a rendition of _Giselle_ (one of Pearl’s favorite ballets). They had beautiful studios, but who goes to college for ballet?

Well, Rose did. She admitted that she couldn’t get into BCB, so she decided to take the academic route instead.

(Pearl would look at her enormous height and equally large weight and wonder how she didn’t want to die every second of the day.)

But, on Rose, her size looked beautiful.

“I understand the pressure, Pearl.” Rose’s voice sounded like chocolate melting over fresh cut fruit.

Her heart swelled in her chest.

 _Giselle_ is a beautiful story of a girl who is cheated on by the man she loves and she goes insane and dies of a heart attack after dancing too hard. Then, Myrtha and her Wilis haunt the man, trying to kill him by forcing him to dance until he dies of exhaustion, but the spirit of Giselle convinces them to spare him. She remains dead.

It’s quite romantic, isn’t it?

As fate would have it, Pearl was cast as Giselle, and Rose was cast as Myrtha. They spent a lot of time together in rehearsals. They got to know each other very well.

(Pearl worshiped the ground she walked on.)

After their last show, there was an after party and after the after party, Rose took Pearl back to her apartment.

And, the rest is history.

Well, not really. It became apparent that Rose was more interested in having a lap dog that she could kiss and cuddle than to actually _date_ her. Plus, Pearl had to keep it all a secret.

Pearl was fifteen, and Rose was twenty-two.

(Pearl wasn’t sure why alarm bells didn’t go off right then.)

But, who could blame her? The beautiful woman was giving her _attention_ , a reverie away from the horrors of pre-professional ballet and the strain of high school. She could go to Rose’s place, and they’d kiss and Pearl would do her homework, and everything was fine.

When Pearl turned sixteen, she didn’t want a party. She just wanted to go out with Rose. Rose said, “How about we stay in, and I’ll buy you a really nice bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

Pearl couldn’t say no to Rose.

(Pearl didn’t eat the dinner Rose made, but she did drink the bottle of champagne.)

Rose took Pearl to bed, and they had sex. 

(Pearl remembered it even though the whole ordeal was kind of fuzzy in her mind.) 

Then, Rose graduated. She moved in with a boy.

She left Pearl to deal with herself alone.

 


	4. Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else is there to do but drink and forget/drink and forget/drink and forget?
> 
> Drink and push everyone away. It's not like you deserve them anyway.
> 
> (It's Your Fault that you're like this and she's gone.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: alcohol use, mentions of physical abuse

She flew in the door, slamming it behind her, making a B-line for the kitchen.

(Her mind was flying a million miles an hour—she had been trying not to think of Rose, but it was kind of hard not to when she realized the only small glimmer of hope in her life was the ~~BOY WHO KILLED ROSE~~ ) 

She knew it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair because he was the sweetest child she had ever met, the _only person_ who could see right through her and tell her exactly what she needed to hear.

And he was Rose’s _son._

Pearl crouched down, opening a cupboard and pulling out her (emergency handle of whiskey).

Whiskey has the least calories per ounce as it turns out.

Grabbing a cup of water, she took the bottle by the neck and took a swig and chased it with water, and—ugh, it tasted absolutely vile—

(But, what would you rather do? Think about shit or block it out with alcohol?)

( _But, the calories._ )

It was past the point of cal-or-ies and numbers-on-the-scale or whatever. She was beginning to realize that this was a state of being, a way of living life. She had to constantly distract herself from the fact that she was always fucking miserable and had been since before she could remember.

And, oh God, she hadn’t seen Greg in at least a decade. In fact, Pearl probably hadn’t seen him since Rose died. 

Another shot straight from the bottle. She tried not to gag, chugging water to make sure she didn’t.

Quickly, she put the bottle back in the cabinet.

(She doesn’t usually drink, but oh God—)

She hadn’t noticed she was sitting on the floor until Amethyst appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hey, P…” she looked down at the small girl on the ground, brushing her long purple hair behind her ear, “Whatcha doing?”

Pearl kept staring in front of her, waiting for the alcohol to set in.

“Pearl?”

“I’m…fine. I’m just trying not to freak out.”

Amethyst came over, opening the fridge and pulling out half of a leftover sandwich. She unwrapped it from the paper and took a big bite. 

(Pearl couldn’t watch.) 

“I mean, that’s fair. What’s got you so freaked?” 

Before she could stop her mouth, words spilled out. 

“I saw Greg.”

Amethyst froze mid-chew, eye wide.

“Y-You mean, like…Greg Universe? The guy who fucked Rose—?”

“Yes! And could you not use such language?” Pearl snapped her head to meet Amethyst’s eyes, a bit of rage dancing through the room, making Pearl’s face scrunch up.

“Well, sorry, Ms. Goody Two Shoes.” Amethyst took a bite of her sandwich again. Her free hand raised in the air and fingers hooked to make air quotes when she said, “Am I ‘triggering’ you, or whatever?”

Pearl stood from her spot (but her eyes spun around in her head because the liquor and her low blood pressure threatened to pull her back down to the ground).

“Ugh! Has anyone told you how _infuriating_ you are?”

Amethyst snorted. “Uh, yeah. Like, every day. By _you_.”

“Yet, you still continue to pester me!

“You just get annoyed at every-fucking-thing I do. It’s impossible _not_ to piss you off. We get it, you’re some precious snowflake who’s oh-so-special and fragile. The act gets fucking old, Pearl.”

There was a tense silence where Pearl didn’t know if she could keep from crying if she opened her mouth.

“You know, I know you didn’t know her, but Rose was—”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone knows you were in love with her. It’s not an excuse to treat me like shit.” 

Pearl stepped forward, finger pointed in Amethyst’s face. Amethyst looked at it with an amused smirk.

“You don’t have _any idea_ what you’re _talking about—”_

“Whoa! Pearl, your breath totally reeks of booze. Hittin’ the bottle a little bit there?”

Caught. Found out.

(Pearl wasn’t perfect. She knew that, but no one else could know.)

“Shut up.” She stepped around Amethyst, making her way toward the staircase. 

“So, a little drunky, huh? Maybe that’s why you’re being such a royal bitch?”

“Shut _up!_ ” Pearl yelled, running up the stairs so she could just not think/not think/not think. She tried to book it to her room, but Garnet stood outside her own bedroom door, looking a bit pissed.

She stopped at the top of the stairs, fidgeting nervously.

“O-Oh, Garnet, I’m so sorry we woke you up—” 

“What happened?” Garnet asked evenly. The way she said it, it didn’t sound like a question. It was obvious that Pearl and Amethyst had engaged in a screaming match.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fight with her, I was just—” 

“Pearl, I asked what happened.” 

Pearl didn’t want to say. Pearl didn’t want to bring up Rose to Garnet. Unlike Amethyst, who was a bit too young to have known Rose personally, Garnet was very close to Rose. Bringing Greg up was hard for the both of them.

(They don’t talk about Rose much anymore.)

“I-I’m sorry. I had a bad run. My knee has been killing me, and—”

She didn’t even let her finish before she interrupted. “I know when you’re lying, Pearl.”

(Was it the small fidgets of her feet, the way she rung her hands, the way fear flashed in her eyes—?)

“G-Garnet, please.”

Garnet just stared, her blue eyes heavy with sleep and annoyance. What time was it anyway?

The tension got too thick, and she felt panic rise in her chest. She was trying so hard to keep calm, but it made her feel so much worse. 

(Her anxiety always felt like physical pain, and even though she was two shots in with a low body weight and an empty stomach, she still felt awful/awful/awful.)

“I ran into…Greg…and his son, and I—”

The look in Garnet’s eyes changed from annoyance to understanding.

“Oh.”

For some reason, this was all Pearl needed to say. Garnet turned around and went back in her room, door shutting behind her.

Pearl stared at the wall, trying to will herself not to go downstairs and chug the entire handle of whiskey.

 

* * *

 

T-minus four days until the Gala.

The piece was set, but dear God, it was still so hard. It seemed to be getting harder rather than easier.

Everything seemed so much harder lately.

She jumped into the next movement of the piece, and but knowing she stayed on through the rest of the piece filled her with dread. It was too hard, but she pushed forward anyway because you can’t _stop_ unless you want to get screamed at and then maybe fired.

“Pearl—faster!”

Yes, yes, yes, she knew she was doing badly, she knew she was doing worse, but she could not feasibly move faster. In fact, she was already quite dizzy, and pure exhaustion was already creeping in on her.

One of the reasons this dance was so exhausting was because there was a lot of running back and forth, a lot of precise footwork, a lot of incredibly difficult timing. She felt shame sit in on her, making her whole body ache with a familiar hatred—the one that said:

( _You’re not good enough/You’re not good enough/Why do you even try/Don’t you know you can’t do_ anything right _/don’t you know you’re a goddamn failure_ )

The one thing she was always good at was turns, which was why she was cast in the part that had fouettes—a lot of fouettes.

She settled in a fourth position and pirouetted into a quick succession of turns.

(Single, single, single, double, single, single, single, double, single, single, single, double, single—)

This was not new or hard for Pearl since she had always been quite naturally gifted when it came to turns, but everything is hard when you don’t have enough energy.

That may be why black holes opened up in her vision, and right before the end of the combination, she found that she didn’t exist—that nothing existed. 

It was only for a moment, much like how it had been when she ~~saw Greg~~. She snapped back into reality when her face slammed into the floor.

The room erupted in a collective gasp, rehearsal director motioning for the pianist to stop playing.

Pearl held back tears as she picked her upper body off of the floor, nose throbbing from the impact.

“Stay down, Pearl,” the director said.

“I’m f-fine,” she squeaked out, mortification setting in on her. She made the mistake of glancing in the mirror after she got up. Wide eyes bore into the back of her head. Heat made her face turn the shade of ~~Steven’s t-shirt.~~ “I’m sorry.”

They insisted she went to the infirmary to make sure nothing was broken. She refused, wanting to continue on with rehearsal, not wanting to be found out.

(Pearl knew she was fine. Just exhausted. Just depleted of everything.)

( _Have to be better/have to be better/have to be better_ )

They all looked at her like she was crazy.

The director sent her home early.

As she was leaving, she saw Lapis’ worried glance, could almost hear the whispers—

( _She didn’t fall out of it, she just_ fell _/She was on her leg, there’s no reason for her to have just biffed it/She’s so damn skinny, I was worried she was going to break in half_ )

Pearl didn’t even know if those were actual real voices or just her inner mantra berating her. 

She felt so guilty, she couldn’t even call Garnet to have her picked up. She only deserved to walk home.

( _This is your fault_ )

Everything was her fault. She kept fucking everything up and making everything worse, which made her feels worse, which made her restrict and exercise more, which made her feel even worse— 

Okay. So, maybe she did have a bit of a problem.

But, what was she going to do? Stop? Get fat? Quit BCB?

No, of course not.

She was going to _just keep going._

(Even if it killed her.)

~~But would that really be so bad?~~

 

* * *

 

_“She’s gone.”_

_Pearl’s eyes flicked up. Her body tensed. She couldn’t have heard that correctly. She couldn’t have left her—_

_“What do you mean?”_

_The only indication that Garnet was aggravated was her clenched fists._

_“I mean,” she paused as if Pearl could only understand her if she spoke slowly, “she’s gone.”_

_Her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach bottomed out. Her head spun around and around and around. It felt like the ocean was rushing between her ears._

_No. It couldn’t be._

_“Wha-what?”_

_There was a moment where no one said anything, where the silence was deafening, where it felt like she was going to die with_ her _._

_“No, no, you’re lying!” Pearl yelled, standing up from the kitchen table, accidently knocking her chair over in her fear and anger._

_Garnet didn’t move._

_“I wouldn’t lie about this.”_

_Each word was pushed out through a clenched jaw, through clenched teeth. Garnet, even though most people wouldn’t be able to tell, was upset. Very upset. But, Garnet was not like Pearl b_ _ecause, as soon as the words sunk in, tiny pale hands clasped over her mouth, and eyes squeezed shut as tears flowed out. She sank to the floor, crouching so her forehead rested on her knees._

_As Pearl’s shoulders shook, Garnet looked away, wiping tears from underneath her glasses._

_This was her worst nightmare._

_Sure, Rose would never love her, but at the very least, she could_ talk to her _. Now…now she’s…_

_Through tears and snot and remorse, she cried, “I-I didn’t even get to s-say goodbye—”_

_“_ Neither did I _,” Garnet all but snarled. She wasn’t one to always express emotion, but Rose was close enough to both of them, and it really,_ really _hurt._

_Pearl dropped her hands from in front of her eyes and looked up at Garnet, silently hoping that this was all some cruel, sick joke._

_But it wasn’t._

 

* * *

 

Garnet and Pearl never said ‘goodbye’ to each other anymore. 

It wasn’t fair. If they couldn’t say it to Rose, they couldn’t say it to each other. 

(Did it make sense? Not particularly. But even after ten tears, the pain of her death was still fresh. The regret still tasted metallic like blood.)

Yet, somehow, Garnet seemed to be coping with everything better. She just seemed more even-keeled. She could do things like hold a job (without passing out) and eat food (without wanting to die) and take care of a teenager (and a twenty-seven-year-old who was basically still a teenager).

She walked down the boardwalk and pretended like she wasn’t crying. It was easy to pretend because she (often ignored reality just so she didn’t have to deal with it). Was it working?

 ~~No.~~  

But who cares? Pearl certainly didn’t. Hiding was always easier than _dealing with it_.

Or that’s what she told herself.

Because really, when you’re walking home because you can barely keep yourself from passing out, and you cry because your self-worth is based solely on what you can and cannot achieve, well, it isn’t what anyone would really consider as easy or _working._

Pearl had a feeling that she was going to run into Steven because he didn’t seem to do much else other than run around the Boardwalk, but she didn’t see Steven at all. He didn’t seem to be around. 

Maybe she scared him away.

(Probably for the best.)

She walked home alone, the only sounds being the calls of seagulls and the rush of ocean waves.

 

* * *

 

It was definitely not ordinary for Pearl to show up at the house by herself and before five in the evening.

Amethyst was at the table working on homework. Garnet was resting on the living room couch. They both looked up when she came in the door. 

“Ouch, P. Your nose.”

She hadn’t even considered what state her face was in. Slowly, she touched her nose, but—yeah, it’s bruised. Maybe she should have gotten it checked out. (Might even be broken.)

“Oh, yeah,” she said distantly, stopping only for a second to drop her bag on the floor.

It was kind of like she was in a trance, making her way to the cabinet that had her alcohol. She had remembered to pick up diet Coke on the way home so she could just drink and not remember that she’s drinking poison.

As she took out the whiskey out of the cupboard and the Coke out of the white plastic bag, Amethyst watched, a bit of concern edging onto her face.

“Hey, Pearl. Whatcha doin’?” 

“What does it look like?” Pearl grunted, standing up, walking over to the sink, grabbing a cup, and watching as several shots of liquor found its way into the glass. Soda soon followed.

“Um. Drinking?”

“Ding ding ding.”

Ignoring Amethyst’s existence, she put the glass to her lips and began to drink.

(Amethyst watched in horror as Pearl drank a much too strong mixed drink faster than she had ever seen Pearl consume anything in her entire life.) 

“Oh, wow, P. Bad day? Who fucked up your nose?”

Pearl coughed, putting the empty glass on the counter.

“I did,” she muttered.

“Yikes.”

( _Yes, please tell me more about how I’m fucking up, I really appreciate it._ )

More liquor and more soda poured. She didn’t even both to put ice in it or to sit down or anything. It was very clear that Pearl was trying to self-destruct. As if she hadn’t been doing that already.

When she began to drink the second glass, that was when Garnet came into the kitchen. She spotted the liquor bottle and the obviously distressed woman chugging her drink and frowned. 

“What now, Pearl?”

Her tone indicated that she was annoyed, fed up.

(As she probably should have been. Pearl knew that she was being too much, asking for too much attention, but the problem was, she wasn’t sure how to stop.)

Pearl couldn’t drink the whole thing in one go, so she took a breath and frowned at Garnet.

“I fell.”

“During rehearsal?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Sleep enough?”

“Yes,” she lied again.

Garnet’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. Pearl went at her drink again.

As the concoction passed her lips, the floating feeling of intoxication began to set in. It was easy when she was already so light-headed, so exhausted, so pushed to her limit. 

(It should have felt better, but it didn’t.)

Drink gone. More liquor poured.

“Hey, Pearl, that’s really a lot—” Amethyst tried to say, but Pearl obviously didn’t care.

(This was as much of a performance as it was a Cry for Help.)

“Pearl—” Garnet’s tone was indicative of a warning, “—you shouldn’t be doing this.”

A small body, which weighed nearly not enough and had been eating barely anything, swayed when she put the glass down.

(How many shots was that? Five? Six? Seven? It didn't actually matter. It was too much, too quick.) 

She had nothing considered a tolerance, so her body reacted quickly and violently, taking her to a headspace that was helpful for no one. She turned, locking eyes with Amethyst, then Garnet.

“You know what—” She had a lowered sense of what was appropriate, and a lowered tolerance for frustration. Pearl slurred out a mumbled, “—Like, fuck you.” They all visibly tensed at this. This was not like Pearl at all.

(She was channeling her self-hatred and making it more like hatred.)

“ _Pearl_ ,” Garnet snapped, frowning hard at the small woman.

“I can do what I want,” she snapped back. 

“Not when it affects everyone living in this house.”

“It doesn’t seem like you actually care. No one ever tries to help.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Pearl?” Amethyst sneered, standing up from her seat at the table. (She wasn’t angry enough to knock the chair over.) “All we _do_ is help you! You just are always focused on _yourself!_ ”

Garnet stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Now is not the time, Amethyst.” 

“Oh, yeah? What gives her the right to act like a damn child, but _I_ have to be the mature one about this.” 

“I’m not acting like a child—” 

“Yes, you are!” Amethyst shot back. “All you do is put on this big show about _how sick you are_ —”

“Amethyst,” Garnet said, tone low.

“What? It’s not like I’m _wrong_. She always has to _parade around_ like, ‘Oh, deary me, look at how sad I am!’ Like, she doesn’t even fucking try—”

Pearl took a step forward, a loud and biting, “Shut _up!_ ” leaving her mouth before she could stop it.

(It was loud enough that is stopped both Garnet and Amethyst and placed them in suspended animation.)

“ _Please_ ,” the word came out fast and desperate. “Please, don’t you think I already know all that? _She’s gone!_ What else is there to do?”

That dreaded silence began to set in, thick and heavy. It clung to their clothes, saturated their skin.

“She _left me_ , she said she loved me, and she didn’t. She lied to me and made me think it was real.”

The alcohol made her mouth looser, made her tears fall freely.

“W-What?” Amethyst said, words going from toxic to cautious. 

“I mean, she knew I loved her, but she just…she just…u-used me…I wish she would have told me…that she didn’t love me…”

“She did love you, Pearl—“ 

“No, no, she didn’t. I was too young. She hurt me a lot. It’s because I told her it was okay. I told her I liked being hit—“

“She _hit_ you?” Amethyst balked, looking between Garnet and Pearl desperately. There was a sudden look of realization on Garnet’s face.

“Y-Yeah. She liked it. Or something. I don’t know.” Pearl looked away from both of them, glancing at the ground. “I didn’t tell her to stop, so it’s my fault anyway…”

“Pearl—“ 

“I let her. It’s my fault. I let her do anything she wanted. I just wanted her to love me.”

The room was so silent that the wind outside the window sounded like a tornado. Everyone now knew something about Rose that had never weighed into their perception of her, and it made them uncomfortable.

But, Garnet was always there to save the day.

“C’mon, Pearl,” Garnet whispered gently, stepping forward and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” 

Pearl’s blonde hair bobbed up and down as she nodded.

As they walked up the stairs, she could hear Amethyst whisper, “ _Jesus_.” Pearl didn’t really understand the purpose of that. It wasn’t like Jesus was going to save her or anything.

 

* * *

 

Pearl leaned over the toilet and vomited for about the third time that night.

Pro tip: don’t drink on an empty stomach. On second thought, don’t drink at all. (Too many calories, after all.) 

Garnet stood in the doorway the bathroom and waited for Pearl to stop dry-heaving.

Eventually, Pearl’s body decided it was done, and she sat back on the floor, head propped up by her hands.

“You alright?” Garnet asked, which was ridiculous because she was very clearly not.

“Everyone’s gonna hate me now,” she mumbled into her palms.

“No one hates you, Pearl.”

She didn’t even have tears left. She just groaned and shook her head.

“My fault,” was all she could get out.

“It's not your fault. We can talk about this tomorrow, but I’m just going to keep saying it,” she said, walking over to her and placing a hand on top of strawberry blonde hair, trying to get her to be calm. Fortunately, it was working because Garnet always knew the right thing to do.

Pearl found herself being carried to bed and then be tucked in by large but kind hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fingernails digging into her palms.

Her addled brain thought, ( _Stupid stupid stupid stupid_ )

“Shhh. It’s alright. Just go to sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.”

~~NO IT WON’T~~

“Okay.”

She made her way to the door. 

“Night, Pearl.”

A slurred, “Goodnight,” spilled onto her blankets.

When the door closed and the hall light slipped into darkness, Pearl had to wonder if all this was really truly worth it.

Before she could figure out an answer, she fell into a (thankfully) dreamless sleep.

 


	5. Don't Get It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's stuck in a glass coffin, and everyone has a front row ticket to watching her die.
> 
> They are scared to death, and even if they try to understand
> 
> (they just don't get it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: suicidal ideation, homophobia, mentions of death, self-harm, mentions of abuse

This girl sits at the kitchen table and stares at her fingers. Pearl would most certainly call them fat, in her head.

She battles in her mind, around and around, because she _doesn’t get it._  

( _Doesn’t she know she’s making herself worse? Doesn’t she know she’s making everyone else suffer too?_ )

This girl is only a teenager—freshly eighteen/legal. Technically, she could move out. She doesn’t. 

Why would she? Five years ago, she was cut off by her mother and extended family because they couldn’t have “a queer” around.

Rose may have been dead, but Garnet wasn’t.

What does Pearl even think of her? She can’t help but wonder. She is what most people would call “fat,” and it’s never really bothered her, not really. But Pearl is barely even a person. Her waist is as big as her arm, and she could probably be broken in half if anyone tried to do it.

(It seemed like Pearl was trying to do it.)

She’s angry—she’s angry that Pearl _won’t stop_ , that she’s making herself worse. She doesn’t understand. How is not eating and exercising all day and drinking yourself into oblivion supposed to help? 

Unless it’s not supposed to help. 

She gets it in some respect. She knows what it’s like to be a failure, to be a disappointment, to be _defective_. And, yeah, maybe she ate a little too much now and then because it felt good, but it’s not disruptive like Pearl’s behavior is. Anyone can see that she is getting worse.

It’s annoying—this victim shit she has going on. She makes herself sick so everyone can obsess over her fragility, and no one calls her out on it. But, she’s not the only one suffering. She’s not the only one that has demons banging around her skull. Why is it that Pearl gets to unleash them into the world, but she has to keep everything to herself?

Why does acting like a child get her what she wants?

This girl presses a (fat) finger to her temple, trying not to succumb to her _feelings,_ but she had never been good at hiding those. Not since she was little, anyway.

 

* * *

 

This girl lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Pearl would most likely consider her insomnia a curse, and to a certain extent, it is.

She stares, jaw clenched because she _doesn’t get it_.

She would think that people with similar experiences would have similar outcomes, but Pearl is so different from her that it begins to become impossible to relate. She projects inwardly, internalizing events, but Pearl bursts outward, screaming to the world that she is sad/that she needs help/that she is in need of attention. 

It’s frustrating, definitely, but it’s a reminder that there is a large difference between wanting to talk about something and simply being unable to do it.

This girl feels like she’s been thirty-four years old forever, but it has only been six months. She is seven years older than Pearl, sixteen years older than Amethyst, so she is essentially The Adult. All of the thoughts that tumble around like clothes in a washing machine have to stay there because it’s not like she can confide in either the teenager or the adult-turned-child.

Rose was all she had. She was a dear friend from college, a wonderful, glowing being filled with happiness and hope. They became inseparable having lived together for two years during their time at Beach City College.

And, that’s where she met Pearl.

Young, small, and perfect. She was amazingly talented for being fifteen years old. She probably wore a size zero, and she probably got As in every subject, and she never seemed lonely, but if you spent a moment around her, and it was easy to realize that she was a lost little girl looking for someone to find her.

And, Rose found her.

In retrospect, she probably should have realized that something was going on between Pearl and Rose. It was obvious that she was head-over-heels in love with the older woman, but she never thought Rose would be stupid enough to take advantage of that.

(Or, maybe, she was smart enough to take advantage of that.) 

It blows her mind that Rose could be physically or (what she’s slowly gathering) sexually abusive, but if Pearl’s recent outbursts are indicative of anything, it is quite obvious that _something happened_. 

The image of Rose raising a hand and hurting that poor child sends a shiver through her bones.

How can she sleep with these thoughts on her mind?

This girl rolls to her side and shudders, hoping that she can at least get a few hours rest, but at this point, it’s probably a bit of a waste.

 

* * *

 

Pearl was shaken awake by the Lilac Fairy.

She fumbled around her bedside table, trying to get a hold of her phone. Flipping it open and pressing it to her ear, she mumbled, “Hello?” 

“ _Hey, Pearl?”_  

Oh, shit. It was her rehearsal director.

“Yes?”

“ _I just wanted to call and ask how you were feeling.”_

Now that was a question. 

“Tired,” she sighed. The clock on her bedside table said 6:30 am in red lighting. It wasn’t like she was late. She still had time to run even though her head was throbbing from alcohol.

“ _Right, so, um—”_ she began, pausing awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure how to present herself. “ _I’ve been talking with the artistic director, and we’re a bit worried._ ”

“Huh?” Pearl sat up in bed. “Worried about what?" 

“ _About you. We, uh, think that maybe you should take a break._ ”

“W-What? But, the Gala—”

“ _We have an understudy for you. It’s really just for your health, Pearl. We don’t want you falling over on stage and hurting yourself._ ” 

“But, I-I can try harder. I promise I can do better—”

“ _Listen, Pearl. If you don’t want to injury yourself and effectively end your career, you should take a leave of absence._ ” Her voice had gone from sympathetic to a warning. Pearl’s breath caught in her throat. “ _Once we open casting for the season, we’ll let you know._ ”

“Wait, but I—”

“ _See you later, Pearl_.”

And she hung up.

Pearl’s eyes clenched shut, a hand pressed to her forehead. She let her phone clatter to the floor, and she flopped back down onto her mattress. She was too tired to process this right then. Her body was begging her for more sleep, anyway.

 

* * *

 

This girl waits at the bus stop and sighs. She isn’t sure why she hasn’t dropped out yet. She’s legally allowed now that she’s eighteen, but there’s something about looking Garnet and Pearl in the eyes and telling them that she’s given up that keeps her from doing so.

It’s hard, y’know, being _that girl_ —the one that everyone knows got kicked out of her home before high school even started. The worst part is everyone knows _why_.

The teachers aren’t allowed to say anything, but the kids are mean. Being different in any way is not appreciated during adolescence, and she’s about as different as she could get. Long purple-dyed hair, thick eyeliner, tank tops that hang off her shoulder and leggings she barely fits in. But, she doesn’t really care about that. Not really, anyway.

This girl sits in Trig and tries her best not to fall asleep. She is not a straight A student. Never has been and probably never will.

Her favorite subject is Lunch. It’s the only class she excels in.

This girl walks down the halls and makes her eyes steely so no one dares talk to her. Her only friends are the Bad Kids, the ones that hang out after school and smoke cigarettes. They’re not her favorite crowd, but it’s the only one she fits into.

This girl comes home from school and is surprised to see both Garnet and Pearl at the kitchen table (holding hands). 

(They are not usually home, both have jobs. Something is wrong.)

She walks upstairs. Doing her homework in her room seems easier than dealing with the mess in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

This girl calls off from work, saying she has a family emergency. She doesn’t do this often, but Pearl obviously needs support right now.

(Leaving her alone is probably worse than anything at this point.)

She is very tired, not having slept much at all.

This girl can’t help but remember The First Time this all happened, right after Rose died.

Pearl’s parents had split up a few months before Rose became pregnant. At that point, Rose still would spend a lot of her time in Garnet’s house because Greg was a traveling musician, and Rose had started editing books from home, so it's not like she got out much. So, after Pearl’s mother disappeared, and her father made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, they took her under their wing.

This seemed to be an ideal set up. Pearl was happy around Rose, and they could support her until she finished high school.

But, then Rose got pregnant. And, then, Rose died.

And, it broke Pearl down into little pieces. She grieved until it turned her tiny and turned her crazy.

The only thing that saved her was getting accepted into Beach City Ballet. It turned her around, made her feel wanted and accepted (even though she was trying to accomplish that herself by letting her stay in her house).

But, something tells her that Pearl really never got over anything. Even after ten years, ten years of being a professional dancer, ten years of having a supporting make-shift family, her demons still were able to rear their angry heads.

This girl pauses in front of Pearl’s door, debating on whether to wake her up or not.

She decides to let her sleep.

 

* * *

 

Pearl was disorientated the next time she woke up. The clock said 1:42 pm. She wasn’t sure why she was still in bed on a weekday.

And then, the previous events came flooding back to her. She fucked up. She fucked up _hard_ —hard enough for the company to forcibly put her on leave. And, then she fucked up with Garnet and Amethyst, making an absolute fool of herself just because she couldn’t cope with anything in a healthy manner.

She laid in bed, staring at the stream of mid-afternoon light that flooded through her window. She hoped it would burn a hole through her retinas. 

It didn’t.

Pearl was so tired, but more importantly, so _disappointed_ in herself that she didn’t even have the energy to get upset. She felt a bit numbed, like the reality of what was occurring didn’t quite sink in all the way. 

She would rather it be like that. It allowed her to continue to run away from reality.

In the shower, she did more of watching her blood go down the drain than of actually cleaning herself. The worst part was it didn’t even hurt anymore. The pain of tearing her skin open could no longer detract from the pain inside her.

Pearl stepped on the scale. Down two pounds. She should have felt excited, but she didn’t feel anything at all.

(She really had gone numb.)

Her eyes flicked up, staring at her own reflection, staring at the wounds she’d carved on her middle.

Was there any point to this anymore?

She remembered reading a book in school—she can’t remember the name now, considering it's been the latter half of a decade since high school—but the story stuck out in her mind because, distraught with the life she was trapped in, the female protagonist walked out into the ocean and drowned herself.

It’s quite romantic, really. Just like _Giselle_.

If she decided that her life was to come to an abrupt end, Pearl had already decided it would be the best way to go. And, really, there was a beach only half a mile from their house, so it was a practical option as well.

She was thinking so hard about it—oh, yes, the book was called _The Awakening_ —that she didn’t realize Garnet was sitting at the kitchen table.

“Oh, G-Garnet. I thought you were at work.”

The older woman shook her head, and then she turned her attention to the girl in the doorway. 

“Took the day off. I wanted to make sure you were getting on alright.” Garnet gave her the once over. “You’re not going to run today, are you?”

Pearl looked down at her leggings and tank top and frowned. After a second, she offered a tired, almost helpless laugh.

“What’s there to do?” she smiled, shrugging and shaking her head. “They won’t let me dance.”

When Garnet had seen her door still shut in the morning, she had kind of gotten the feeling.

“You can take a day off,” she said, motioning to the chair across for her.

“Can’t I at least make some coffee—”

“Already made some.” She got up, grabbed a mug from the cupboard, and filled it with rich black coffee. The whole room reeked of it.

Pearl didn’t move from the doorway.

“W-What’s all this?” 

Garnet made her way back to the table, setting the mug down where Pearl was to sit.

“I said last night that we would talk. So, let’s talk.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary—” 

“I do.”

Their eyes locked (and Pearl had to admit that she forgot how blue Garnet’s eyes were during the day because she usually wore sunglasses).

“Okay.”

They both sat down. Pearl wrapped her hands around the mug. She hoped it would burn her fingers, but she couldn’t even feel it.

“What’s going on, Pearl?” Her words sounded sympathetic, caring, and Pearl wanted to break down and tell her everything so badly, but she wasn’t sure if she could do it without irreversibly falling apart. 

She shrugged, taking a small sip of coffee.

“Tired. Sad. Nothing unusual for me.”

“Have you eaten anything lately?" 

“Yes.” Not a lie. She had been eating _a little bit_. Nothing that could be considered enough, but it was something.

“You look awful, Pearl.”

For some reason, this caused a small smile to pop onto her face.

“That’s what he said, too.” 

“Who?”

“Greg. He said I look awful.”

This caused Garnet to pause, but she needed to keep Pearl talking. It was the only way she knew to help her. 

“I think you would be doing better if you ate a bit more.”

Pearl shook her head, face falling slightly.

“I can’t.”

“I’ll make you something. I have the whole day off.”

Garnet could almost hear something cracking open inside the other girl, her eyes wide and panicked, shining in the sunlight of the afternoon. 

“P-Please, don’t make me, Garnet.” 

Words flew through Garnet’s mind.

( _Why do I deserve it?_ )

 

* * *

 

It was weird, the first time.

She was still very young, but older now. Nineteen years old. She was still very thin, but not nearly as bad as when Rose died.

Normally, this was not something she would allow herself to think about but, Pearl had been adamant.

“Please, Garnet. I mean, you can say no, but I—”

It was a bit strange. After all, Garnet was more of a mother-figure than that of a partner or even a friend, but there was something about her pleading eyes, about the way she quivered there in the doorway.

Her first thought was she’d regret this later. Her second thought was that she was probably going to hell.

Relief shown in her eyes when Garnet invited her in. She still looked like a child, even with a few years and pounds on her.

When she kissed her there on the bed, Pearl almost immediately fell limp, her tension falling away as if Garnet were the cure for something that had been plaguing her insides. She touched her with care, brushed her face with only her fingertips, caressed her body as if she were going to fall apart in her hands. 

“What do you want me to do?”

Pearl looked at her with a mix of confusion and pain. Not exactly the expression Garnet had been expecting.

“I-I—I want you to do whatever you want.”

Garnet frowned. “This isn’t about me. I want to make you happy. So, what is it you want?”

Most of the confusion fell away.

“I don’t care,” she sighed, sounding exhausted. With very little inflection, she said, “You can be rough if you want.”

Be rough with Pearl? Surely, she’d break in half.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

Her expression had turned lifeless, almost as if she was not inhabiting that body any longer.

“Well—alright.”

The whole thing gave Garnet a pit in her stomach.

But, being rough did sort of get more of a reaction out of Pearl. She seemed to enjoy being pushed around, but she was very passive, not giving any feedback at all. A little voice in the back of Garnet’s head squeaked, ( _something is wrong_ ), but she didn’t exactly know what to do about it.

Pearl looked up at her with dead eyes, panting as Garnet tweaked at her insides with pretty considerable force.

“Do you like this?” Garnet asked, breathing a bit labored herself.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do you want me to be louder?” she muttered, letting her eyes drift away from the woman above her.

This caught Garnet off guard, her eyebrows knitted together.

“I don’t _care_ —I just want you to like it. That’s the whole point.”

This idea seemed lost on Pearl, and she seemed to retract farther into herself as if shame had covered them both in a thick blanket.

After a moment, Pearl’s eyes met with Garnet’s again. 

“You don’t want to hurt me?”

Garnet stopped what she was doing, pulling her fingers out of Pearl.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

Pearl blinked, shook her head, a flush painting her cheeks. She laughed softly, head rolling to the side.

“I think it would be better if you did.”

(At least, she would understand.)

 

* * *

 

The way Pearl looked up at her, eyes pleading, shoulders and face tense with worry—well, Garnet was sure that she had mixed up food and sex at some point.

“Pearl, you’re very weak right now. You should at least eat _something._ ”

She could see the wheels turning in her head like she was weighing the pros and cons, or at the very least, trying to find an excuse to get out of it all.

“Okay,” she said finally.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t care.” She wouldn’t make eye contact. Her gaze had fallen and drowned in her cup of coffee.

Garnet sighed and stood up, grabbing various things from the refrigerator.

Pearl didn’t look up the whole time she was making food. She seemed to be completely lost in thought, still fixated on the now cold coffee. Although it was difficult to tell, Garnet felt worry build up in her chest. 

She placed the plate in front of Pearl (scrambled eggs and two slices of wheat toast with strawberry jam). Pearl stared at it.

“If I eat it, will you let me run?”

“No. If you have been falling down while exercising, running will not end well.”

There is a flash of _something_ in Pearl’s eyes, but Garnet can’t identify it. She grabs a piece of toast, taking a small bite. She chews slowly, vacant eyes staring off at the wall.

They sat in silence for a long while, Pearl gently pecking at her food until about half of it was gone.

“I can’t eat anymore,” she groaned, pushing the plate away and resting her forehead in her palm. 

“It’s better than nothing.” 

Pearl frowned hard.

“Why are you making me do this?”

The question struck Garnet as strange. Why was she encouraging her to eat? Geez, she really did have some sort of death wish.

“Because I care about you, Pearl. Amethyst and I are both very concerned. And, you said yesterday that we’re not helping you enough. So, here I am.” 

“I said a lot of things yesterday.”

“That is true.”

A heaviness hung over the both of them, neither one wanting to raise the subject.

Garnet sighed. “Pearl—” 

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it.” Pearl shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“I understand that, but is avoiding it working either?” 

She took a deep breath in and turned away, scrunching her eyes shut.

“No. But, it’s easier.”

Both of them knew that was a lie. Interestingly, Pearl did not get up from the table. She sat there, a bit slouched, pouting a bit. It told Garnet that (maybe she does want to talk about it).

She cleared her throat, leaning forward on her forearms, hands folded loosely.

“Did she hurt you?”

Pearl’s chin lifted so big wide eyes could meet Garnet’s steady ones.

“Yes.”

“And, you didn’t like it?”

“No.”

“Did she have sex with you?”

Pearl’s eyes dimmed slightly, looking down at the table, nodding softly.

Garnet tried her best not to react, to keep her hands steady (because really, she was _so angry_ at Rose—so angry at her for mixing Pearl up, for making her so scared and full of hatred). She set a hand gently on Pearl small, cold ones. 

“And, you know that none of that was your fault, right? Rose was an adult, and you were not.” 

“Then, why does it feel like it’s my fault?”

The words came out so softly, Garnet had to strain to hear them.

“It sounds like Rose did a lot to make you feel that way.” 

She shook her head, biting her lip as if that would stop her eyes from watering. “No, I would have done anything for her. It’s not her. I let everything happen to me.” 

“Listen,” Garnet said, tone getting sharper. “I knew Rose well enough to know that she knew damn well what she was doing. And, it sickens me to know she acted like that towards you.”

“No, really, please listen to me,” she pleaded, hands all of a sudden clutching Garnet’s. “I just wanted her to care about me—I wanted _someone_ to care about me. And, if I did what she wanted, she would care about me. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something.”

It was certainly strange how Pearl spoke about her—how even though she was fighting back tears, she also had a wistful look in her eyes. 

It made her even more furious with Rose.

Garnet realized why Pearl wanted so badly to be physical with her.

(Rose had taught her that the only way to be loved was to sexually intimate, to give herself completely to another person, and to not expect anything in return.)

Her jaw clenched.

( _What an idiot._ )

It was then that Amethyst came home. She gave them a weird look as she passed through, and both women became self-conscious about how tightly they gripped each other’s hands. It was only for a split second, though, because the purple-haired girl continued to make her way upstairs, appearing to brush them off.

After a moment, she stood up, taking her hands away.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Pearl announced.

Garnet frowned. “Can I come with you?”

Pearl strapped on her shoes and began walking towards the door.

“No. There’s someone I want to talk to.”

And, into the late afternoon she went.

Garnet sighed and put her head in her hands. If nothing else, she prayed that Pearl would find her way home tonight.

(Because a part of her was already scared for the worst.)

 


	6. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is her attempt to be The Adult.
> 
> (The adult trapped in the child's body.)
> 
> She wants to get better, but she haunts her. Her demons beg her to open up her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I made an 8tracks if anyone cares: http://8tracks.com/autumnmycat/lonely)
> 
> tw: discussion on purging, mentions of abuse, alcohol, awkward conversations featuring Greg Universe

The sun was shining and birds were singing, but who actually gave a fuck?

Her mind whirled at a million miles per hour.

She couldn’t believe that just happened—that she survived that ordeal.

She walked behind the house and stuck her fingers down her throat, but she only coughed and let panic pound against her skull.

(Oh, God—never in her life had she wanted to throw up more than that moment. Oh God, oh God.)

Scrambled eggs with milk (160), toast with jam (240), feelings (priceless, really).

She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t do it.

Oh, God, she wished she could throw up—why had God given her an eating disorder and not allowed her to throw up? Really limiting His options, honestly.

She gave up, running a hand desperately through her sweaty hair. 

Instead of crying, she just started walking.

 

* * *

 

Pearl stood on the beach, the wind off the ocean cutting through her. She really should have grabbed a jacket before gallivanting off into the city, but, oh well. She was a little bit emotionally compromised.

She walked around, trying to remember what direction she needed to go in. It was around here somewhere… 

Then, she spotted it.

Greg’s van.

This was not something she actually wanted to do, but she was at the point where she felt like it was something she needed to do.

She walked up to the back door and knocked. 

There was a moment where Pearl thought about running all the way home in the other direction, but at this point, that would probably result in her fainting on the pavement or passed out drunk on the kitchen floor.

The door opened. 

“Pearl?” 

It was Steven, not Greg.

 _Shit_.

“O-Oh, hi, Steven.”

“Pearl, I-I thought you were upset with me…”

His face looked so small, so sad. Guilt settled on Pearl’s chest like a boulder.

“N-No. I wasn’t upset with you, I promise.”

“Oh. Okay," he tried not to look sad, but she had a feeling he didn't quite believe her. “So, what are you doing here, anyway?” 

She fidgeted where she stood, a nervous hand running through her hair.

“I just was looking for your father.”

His eyes brightened a bit.

“Oh, Dad? He ran to the store, but he should be back soon.” 

“Oh, okay.”

There was an awkward silence, one that was only there because Pearl had fucked up and made Steven nervous.

“Are you cold? You’re kind of shivering.” 

“Y-Yes, I’m very cold.” 

Steven turned around and began digging through the massive pile of clothes near the front of the car. It took a few moments, but he came back with a giant long-sleeved, striped, collared shirt. It looked straight from the ‘80s.

“Here you go. It’s really warm, I wear it when it starts to snow if Dad hasn’t taken it first.”

“Thank you, Steven.” 

She grabbed the shirt, slipping it on over her head and relaxing into the fabric. It smelled like French fry oil and sand, but it was actually quite a calming smell. 

(It smelled like home.) 

Another pause. Then, Steven sat down in the truck.

“I’m sorry for introducing you to my dad. I didn’t know it was going to make you so upset,” he mumbled, glancing down at the sand. “I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“Oh, no, no. Don’t worry about it. Really, it was my fault. I was just very good friends with your mother and—”

“You knew Mom?!”

It was nice to see stars in his eyes again.

“Y-Yes, we were very c-close,” she stuttered, a surprised flush painting her skin.

“Wow! You didn’t tell me that!” Steven excitedly kicked his legs that dangled from the van. “What was she like? Dad only talks about her sometimes.”

Pearl frowned.

“She was lovely.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. She was a very kind and caring person. Just like you.” 

But, as Steven began to beam at the compliment, a tiny voice in the back of her head started to bug her. It said—

( _ ~~I hope you’re not like Rose~~_ ~~.~~ )

—and Pearl wasn’t sure why she kept thinking that.

She was almost lost in her own thoughts for a moment, but Steven hopped back up on his feet and began to wave. 

“Hi, Dad!” Before Pearl could even turn around, Steven shouted, “Pearl’s here!” 

“Hey, Stu-ball, and—Pearl.” He seemed much less enthusiastic when saying her name. Understandably so. “What’s going on?” He walked over and put the few bags of groceries into the back of the van. “And why are you wearing my shirt?”

“O-Oh, well—”

“I let Pearl wear it because she was cold,” Steven explained.

“It’s, like, seventy degrees, though.”

“That wind is pretty cold right off the ocean,” he chimed in again.

“I guess, that’s true,” Greg said, scratching his neck nervously. “So, uh, guess I couldn’t scare you away this time, huh?” He said it a bit jokingly, but Pearl knew he wasn’t really joking.

“Yes, um, Greg, I’m—I’m sorry for acting the way I did,” Pearl muttered. “It was rude and insensitive of me.”

“Eh, it’s no big deal, Pearl. Just glad to see you’re feeling a bit better.”

He was a good guy, all in all.

“But, I—um, would like to talk with you—” as she said this, she noticed Steven’s large smile and wide eyes beaming up at her, “—alone, if that’s okay.”

Yes, Steven was not dumb. He knew that adults talked without him, that there were some things he wasn’t supposed to know about. Pearl could see the twinkle in his eyes dim as if he knew what Pearl wanted to say.

“Um, well, the beach isn’t exactly a private area—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I understand.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just…” Greg glanced down at Steven for a moment. “Hey, kiddo. Wanna stay at Aunt Vidalia’s tonight?”

Steven’s expression brightened again.

“Hey, yeah! That would be awesome! She has the best cereal.”

“That she does,” Greg smiled, ruffling his son’s hair.

(Pearl couldn’t help but remember what his hair felt like—soft and fluffy, like Rose’s. She couldn’t believe she didn’t make the connection before. He kind of even looks like her.)

 

* * *

 

After dropping the Universe boy off at “Aunt Vidalia’s” place, they began walking.

“I’m sorry that I’m making such a big deal out of this. I understand that it's a major inconvenience.”

“Nah, I just have to pick him up in the morning. No big deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Pearl could already feel her eyes beginning to sting.

(She hated asking things from people, even when they said it was okay. It made her feel even more like a burden.)

“Yeah. I mean, I know this isn’t an ‘old pal checking up’ type thing, so it’s probably better that Steven doesn’t hear it. He wasn't too happy after you ran off the last time.” 

“Yes, sorry about that, too. I was…not having a good day.”

“Don’t sweat it. And, you already apologized, so really don’t sweat it.”

She smiled weakly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about?” Greg asked when she didn’t say anything.

There were a few beats of silence where Pearl wasn’t sure if she could get any words out. Pearl could feel his eyes boring into her, and she wished she could run far away, but she needed this more than she would like to admit. 

“What was she like?”

The question caught him off guard.

“What, Rose?” he laughed nervously, looking in the direction of the setting sun over the water. “I think you knew her better than I did. Or, at least, you knew each other _longer_.”

She also averted her eyes, staring at the pavement.

“That doesn’t mean anything. She obviously loved you. She probably opened up more.” Pearl couldn’t help the bitter twinge of her words. It was always there, pressing against her tongue, and sometimes, it just slipped out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a negative way. I just wanted to know what she was actually like with the people she cared about.” 

Greg looked unnerved.

“Whoo, this is not the conversation I thought we were going to be having,” Greg sighed, a hand sliding down his face in exasperation.

“Sorry, I—”

“No, it’s fine. Just, uh—maybe we should grab some food, get some drinks? Take the edge off? Thinking about Rose usually makes me kinda—”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. “I don’t mind drinks, but I’m not very hungry.”

Greg swallowed loudly.

“Okay, well I know this pub down the street that has both.”

“Great.”

The rest of the walk was uncomfortably silent.

 

* * *

 

They sat at the bar. Pearl looked woefully out of place with her tiny ponytail, humongous shirt, and tiny hands wrapped around a tiny glass.

Her gin and tonic smelled like calories, but maybe letting her mind wander with a bit of liquid poison would help. Maybe she could actually have the conversation she actually needed to have.

Some of Greg’s buddies were there. Unfortunately.

“Whoa, hey Greg—who’s this lovely lady you have here?” 

“New girlfriend?”

“Oh—no, I—”

Pearl stared at the men and sneered. She lifted up a hand and said, “No, no, no. I have never and will never express romantic attraction towards Greg Universe.”

“Harsh, man—”

“Or any of you.”

The men all shut up really fast. Greg laughed nervously, taking a large bite out of the hamburger in front of him. He shrugged, and with a mouthful of food, he tried to get out a muffled, “It’s true!”

Pearl had found the best way to get rid of men was to be painfully blunt, and she happened to be very good at that.

They left. 

Greg sat there, shoulders slumped, looking like he may be silently praying for his life for a minute or two. But, he got over it and turned to look at her.

“How’s your drink?” 

“Fine. How’s your—” Pearl made a face, “—food.”

“Pretty great. Want any?” 

“No.” 

“Can I—uh—” he was desperately trying to keep up conversation, “—buy you a drink?”

“Why? I have money.”

“I have money, too.”

She stared blankly, blinking at him. He lived in a goddamn van, for Christ's sake, and he wanted to get her a drink? 

He tried again. “Um, think of it _symbolically_. I just want to do something nice for a change. Heh.”

Pearl really did not know what this conversation had to do with symbolism, but she figured letting him do what he wanted was better than arguing.

“If you must…”

“What do you want?” Greg asked, waving his hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“I don’t care.”

Greg frowned but didn’t say anything.

 

* * *

 

Alcohol is good. It’s great.

Pearl whipped around, the neon lights of the Pabst Blue Ribbon sign burning into her eyes.

Everything seemed so much more intense – the sounds around her, the lights around her, the people around her.

She found herself stumbling into a wall, a bit of her gin and tonic splashing onto her clothes. People said things and made noises, but she was, as they say, fucked up, and she couldn’t really tell what was going on.

(She can’t remember how many drinks she had, but it was clearly too many.) 

“Are you okay, Pearl?” Greg’s words came out of nowhere, and they came out softer than she would have expected, but there was also something fucking annoying about turning around and watching the fat man drink a damn beer.

( _ ~~I wish I could fucking drink a goddamn beer, why does he deserve it, but I don’t? I don’t understand, I don’t understand~~ )_

“I’m fine,” she quipped, using her free hand to brush her hair out of her face. Yes, really, she was fine. The disorientation was really just the alcohol, no need to be alarmed. 

“You look upset.”

She leaned forward but lost her balance, resorting to putting out a hand and pressing into Greg’s chest to keep herself upright.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she articulated, taking a sip of her drink.

Greg stared wide-eyed at Pearl’s tiny hand and arm stretched out in front of her. Pearl? Touching him? Willingly?

“Alrighty then—well—how’re you doing? Had enough to finish our ‘adult’ conversation?”

Pearl took her hand away, seeing as though she was not swaying anymore. She looked to be mulling it over in her head.

“Yes, I would think so since I can’t exactly see straight—”

“Heh, was that a gay joke?”

Pearl covered her mouth and tried to hold back a snicker, but liquor always made her giggle. 

“Now it certainly is.” Pearl blinked hard, trying to get her vision to go back to normal. It worked—kinda. “We should go somewhere less…busy…” 

Greg looked around, spotting the door that lead upstairs.

“C’mon, there’s an outside area up here that people don’t usually know about.”

Pearl dutifully took tiny steps right behind Greg so she wouldn’t get lost or fall or anything.

 

* * *

 

They sat on a bench on the upstairs deck, looking out onto the dark ocean. It would have been pretty, but Pearl was shivering.

“Ah, well…”

Even when intoxicated, Pearl looked nervous. Her drink was set beside her on the bench and her free hands picked at her cuticles.

“I mean, you don’t have to say anything if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I _want to_. Garnet says t-talking about it will help.”

“Okay…” Greg sounded suspicious. For Pearl to show up out of the blue and be talking like this—well, it was weird.

“I guess I should ask, did she ever…talk about me at all? Or tell you anything?”

Greg’s mouth twisted in a weird frown, his fingers tearing at the label on his bottle absentmindedly.

“Sure, she would mention you from time to time. Nothing really specific or anything, but you two were close, so I would expect that.”

“Hm.” 

“If you don’t mind me saying, I did get the sense you two liked each other, if that’s what this is about.”

Pearl chewed on her lips while listening to him speak.

“Sort of.” Oh, geez, she really didn’t want to talk about Rose like this, especially to someone she barely knows or trusts, but— “I don’t know _how_ _much_ she liked me. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell with her. Didn’t stop her, though.”

“Stop her from what?” 

Her eyes flicked over to meet Greg’s.

“Er—we…um, you know…”

“Oh.  _Oh._ ” His face lit up. “Wait, _what?_ You guys _banged?_ ”

Her face turned appropriately rose-colored. 

“Ahem, y-yes, I guess that is a way of putting it.”

“But, you were a kid! Like, you weren’t even eighteen when she—”

“Yes, I am aware, Greg,” she sighed, picking up her glass. “That’s part of why I wanted to talk to you. Garnet seems to think that because I haven’t been thinking about—hmm, R-Rose—that it’s contributing to my…poor coping mechanisms.” 

Well, she didn’t quite say that, but that’s what Pearl gathered she meant. 

“It…doesn’t seem like something Rose would do, but then again, it sounds exactly like something Rose would do. Sometimes I wondered if she was telling me everything, but I guess...”

“Yes, well, she’s a wonderful, kind person. I’m not trying to say she’s not.”

“No, I know.”

“Then again, she did have a way of making everything seem better than it was. I’m not sure how she did that.”

“Rose-colored glasses, am I right?” he grinned.

Pearl actually cracked a smile, a stifled giggle held back behind teeth. 

“To be fair, it was hard not to fall in love with her,” Greg continued. “She did have that way about her. I mean, she was stunning for one thing but also a really great person. She went out of her way to make you feel like you mattered.”

“True.”

Greg frowned, seeing the discomfort that still covered Pearl’s face.

“Hey, why the long face?”

Alcohol was creeping into her words.

“Am I nothing, Greg?” Her eyes were wide and a bit bleary and the lights illuminating the outside made it look like she had stars dancing around in them. It made Greg’s heart do a weird flop.

(She looked so damn sad.)

“Huh? What is that supposed to mean?” 

Pearl turned back and held her free hand up in front of her, arm outstretched as if she were examining her fingernails.

“Sometimes I wonder—what the point is—if I’m even real.”

Greg sat silently, watching the girl as she spoke. Her eyes had become very distant.

“She made me feel like I was everything. When I was with her, I mattered. But…I think she knew that. She knew she could get me to do anything because I needed her. So, when she left, I felt like I was nothing.” 

She took a sip of her drink and then laughed softly.

“Pearl…” Greg began, cautiously. “What did she do?”

She brought her drink up to cover her lips, holding it with both hands, as if hiding behind the glass would make her disappear. A weird, crooked smile cracked her face, but there was fear in her eyes. Her shoulders were around her ears, back hunched slightly. She looked very small, swimming in Greg’s XL shirt.

“Ah, well, she was very rough with me. She liked to—” she held up a hand, looking at her own palm, “—h-hit.” She sucked in a breath, panic edging her tone as words tumbled out faster than she could register them. “But, it wasn’t like I stopped her or anything. She asked me if it was okay, and I told her, yes, so really, I can’t _blame her._ I mean, honestly, what was she supposed to think? It is quite unfair of me to be making a big deal so many years later when I could have stopped her—”

“Pearl.”

She froze, realizing she had been letting her mind pour out her mouth. Glancing over, Greg looked a bit pale, but his eyes were very intense, and Pearl wasn’t sure why.

“S-Sorry.”

“No, that’s—” He swallowed and put his beer down. “Listen, I’m sorry that happened. I never knew that she was like that towards you. And, I mean, she’d never done anything like that with me, which I guess is why it sounds so bad—on her end I mean. Not yours.”

Pearl watched him speak, dead-eyed.

“You do realize that’s not normal, right?” Greg asked, a bit of genuine concern creeping into his voice.

“Now I do. After some misguided attempts.” 

She cringed, remembering the look of horror on Garnet’s face when Pearl wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to make her hurt.

(Because, really, it makes sense as to _why_ someone would want to—there’s power in the dominance, into forcing submission, and really, why wouldn’t Pearl deserve to be in pain? It’s really all she’s good for, after all.)

“But, you know, sometimes I wonder if it was something I did.”

“Geez Louise, Pearl. Even if you did _anything_ , no one deserves to be in pain, especially at the hands of someone else.”

And, that was when the tears started. She was surprised she made it that long.

Her shoulders shook as she tried to be silent about her inability to keep herself from wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

( _How pitiful, really._ )

“H-How can y-you say I don’t _deserve it?_ ”

Before she knew what was happening, Greg had pulled her into a crushing bear hug, his arms and hands completely encompassing her.

“Shit, Pearl.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You’re so hard on yourself when you don’t have to be.” 

There was a moment of stillness.

Then, she could feel the tension in him as he unintentionally ghosted over the too sharp edges of her body, over the absence of herself.

(Caught. Found out.)

“ _Pearl_ —” He pulled away very suddenly, the change in sensation making her head spin. “You’re literally a skeleton.”

Another short, self-deprecating laugh found its way out with the tears.

“Y-Yeah, guess I got a bit of a problem, huh?”

“J-Jesus, like, I knew you were thin, but you’re—”

“I don’t really eat, so there’s that.” 

“Oh man, Pearl. We gotta get you looked at by someone. Does Garnet know how bad—?”

“Yes, she’s been trying to help me, but I haven’t exactly been _compliant_.”

They stared at each other for too long.

“I should really go. Garnet must be worried sick,” Pearl muttered, gulping the rest of her drink and standing up.

“You really think you should walk home alone when you’re drunk?”

She turned around, stumbling a bit, her damn body betraying her once again. 

“Oh, I’m _fine_ , Greg. The house is only a few miles.”

“I don’t think so. Let me call you a cab.”

When Greg pulled out his cell phone, she remembered that her phone was still on the floor of her room.

( _Idiot._ )

 

* * *

 

She sat in the back seat of a taxi, curled up into a ball under Greg’s shirt. He told her she should keep it.

(Pearl didn’t know what to say.)

She watched with unfocused eyes as the lights passed by.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, she dreamt of Rose.

 

* * *

 

_She buries her face in fluffy pink hair and sighs._

_The huge hands of Rose Quartz run down Pearl’s back, and she shivers._

_Beautiful, stunning, sweet, kind. How could she have ever had the pleasure of meeting such a creature?_

_“Hey, Pearl,” she whispers, her voice crawling into her chest and swelling against her ribcage._

_“Yes, Rose?”_

_She leans in so their lips meet, but it is only for a second because now she is laying on cold sand._

_She looks around, fear bubbling where Rose’s voice used to live._

_“Hello?” Pearl is standing, looking around, trying to figure out why she doesn’t feel alone. “Rose?”_

_She turns around, and she is looking at Steven Universe._

_“No, it’s just me.”_

_Pearl blinks, “Huh?”_

_“Were you dreaming about Mom?”_

_She looks to the boy and wonders if this is a dream or if she accidently got too drunk and passed out on the beach._

_“Yes.” Pearl didn’t see a reason to lie to her own subconscious._

_“Oh.” Steven sits down. Pearl joins him. “I don’t ever dream about her. I’ve only seen a few videos, so I’m not sure exactly how she was.”_

_She shifts uncomfortably in the sand._

_“I’m sorry about that, Steven.”_

_“No, it’s okay,” he says, looking at her with earnest eyes. “I’m more worried about you.”_

_“Me?” Pearl points to herself almost in disbelief._

_“Yeah. Are you sick?”_

_“Um, kind of.”_

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“Well—I, uh—” Why does she feel reluctant to talk about something to her own brain, the very one that is fucked up and making her sick in the first place? “I don’t eat a lot.”_

_“Huh, well, I can take you to The Big Donut sometime! It tastes great and, uh, it’s good for this, too.” He slaps her stomach comically. It jiggles._

_Pearl falters._

_“That’s not it.” She hesitates again. Why does she keep doing that? “I’m afraid.”_

_“Of what?”_

_“Getting fat.”_

_“Oh, I see…”_

_The boy looks to be genuinely thinking about this like it’s a concept he never thought about before._

_“Even if you did gain a lot of weight, everyone would still love you,” he offers, looking at her more timidly than she’s used to seeing him. “And, it might make you less sad, which is always a good thing.”_

_“That’s not it either,” she mumbles, eyes dimming._

_“It’s not? Then, I don’t get it.”_

_She takes a fistful of sand and releases it slowly. She watches as it gets blown away._

_“I’m afraid that I’m only worth anything if I’m perfect. And, being fat isn’t perfect.”_

_The longer she talks, the more lines carve into Steven’s forehead._

_“Well, would you tell me that I’m worthless if I was heavier?”_

_“Of course not.”_

_“Then, why would you think that about yourself?”_

_They meet eyes again, and the boy is strangely serious. He doesn’t even have stars in his eyes._

_She begins to laugh. Steven frowns._

_“What’s so funny?”_

_She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She’s not sure if it’s from laughing or crying._

_“I guess I already think I’m worthless.”_

_As soon as the words, leave her mouth, Steven has his arms wrapped around her, head of curly hair pressed into her chest._

_She closes her eyes and she’s not sure if it’s Steven or Rose who says—_

_“Well, I think you’re pretty great.”_

 

 


	7. Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's the ghost of a girl that she wants to be most.
> 
> She's the shell of a girl that she used to know well.

Her head felt full of cotton balls and thorns. When she moved, everything spun. Hangovers are the worst, Pearl concluded. She didn’t even bother looking at the clock. It was probably late. But, it wasn’t like she had anything to do, anyway.

She rolled out of bed, groaned when she stood. 

She peeled off Greg’s shirt and the tank top underneath. She weighed herself (up a pound, probably from the alcohol). She looked in the mirror.

She couldn’t tell what she looked like. It was nothing new. The more weight she lost, the less she could see. It was like her eyes were broken, or somewhere between her eyes and her brain, wires got crossed and severed and rewired wrong. She looked at herself, but she couldn’t tell if she was skinny or fat or acceptable or anything. 

Panic welled up in her (because if she didn’t understand how to interpret how she looks, how would she ever know if she was skinny enough?).

Well, that was easy. She would never be skinny enough. She knew that. She knew all of this, but it was still terrifying each and every day.

She didn’t bother showering. Too tired, anyway.

 

* * *

 

There was a call on the house phone at 2:40 pm. It was around the time Amethyst got out of school. She must have wanted a ride or something. Pearl wasn’t sure what to do if she asked, she didn’t have a car (couldn’t afford one), and Garnet was at work until at least four or five.

Hesitantly, she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“ _Hello, yes, am I speaking to…Garnet?_ ”

She did not recognize the voice on the other end. It sounded like the person was reading her name off of a piece of paper.

“I’m sorry, no, this is Pearl. I’m Garnet’s roommate. She’s at work at the moment.”

“ _I see. Are you living in the same residence at Amethyst?_ ”

Pearl’s heart was beginning to sink in her chest.

“Y-Yes. Is there something wrong with her? Is she sick or hurt or something?”

“ _Well, that’s what we were calling to find out. Amethyst never showed up for school today. We were wondering if she was home sick._ ”

_Oh no._

Pearl tried her best to not let herself panic, but Pearl had never really been good at not panicking.

“Uh, s-she’s not here, I’m almost positive she left for school this morning.”

“ _I see._ ”

“Don’t worry, I’ll call Garnet right away!”

Pearl had accidently hung up before whoever was on the other line had the chance to finish. She whipped out her cellphone and dialed Garnet’s work number.

“ _Hello?”_

Unable to control the emotion in her voice, Pearl quickly rushed out, “Garnet, do you know where Amethyst is? She didn’t show up to school today, someone called asking if she was home sick, but she’s not here!”

Pearl could almost imagine her expression: lips pressed into a straight line, skin tight over her face.

“ _Is that so?_ ” 

“Y-Yeah, do you think she ran away? I-I don’t even know where to begin—do we call the police?”

“ _Pearl, calm down. It’s only been a few hours. I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll be home when I’m done with this assignment, and we can talk then. But, right now, you’re just going to have to try to relax. There’s nothing we can do at the moment.”_

She clutched the phone tight by her ear and nodded, forgetting that Garnet couldn’t hear her head rattle.

“ _Pearl? Are you still there?_ ”

“Yes.” 

“ _Take care of yourself. Amethyst will be fine._ ”

“Okay.”

“ _I’m hanging up, Pearl._ ”

“Okay.” 

She flipped her phone closed, staring at the floor.

Gosh, she hoped Amethyst was okay. Her mind kept flying in different directions—

(Ran away—no. Got kidnapped—no. Hitchhiked with some creepy guy in a truck—no. Got stabbed—no. Hates her—)

Probably.

A part of Pearl felt responsible. After all, she had been especially hard on Amethyst lately. And, Garnet had been worried enough about Pearl that she probably felt neglected. Ugh, and maybe school was getting to her too?

And, all Pearl could think about was herself. 

( _What an idiot._ )

She paced around for a while, called Amethyst’s phone twice (both calls went straight to voicemail), she clicked on the TV and watched the local news, she turned it off, she tried to sleep, she tried to stretch, she sat on the porch outside, she sat at the kitchen table.

Worried gnawed at her like it was a rat trapped in her belly. Or maybe she was just hungry.

 

* * *

 

 

When Garnet came home, she was huddled on the couch, most of her body under a blanket. Only her head poked out.

“Pearl?” 

Her eyes drifted over to her.

“Garnet.”

“Are you doing alright, Pearl?”

She nodded even though she felt sick to her stomach.

Garnet came over and sat on the couch with her. A hand made its way around her blanketed shoulder. 

“Amethyst will be fine.”

“But, what if she’s not?” 

Pearl knew that Garnet was good at putting up fronts and act calm when she really wasn’t. She was usually happy that Garnet could be the rock, but right now, it just seemed inappropriate.

“We can’t file a police report unless she’s been gone for two days.” 

“Two days?! But, anything could have happened to her by then! She could be states away.”

“Pearl. It’s going to be okay. I don’t think she’s going to go far.”

Butterflies of all shapes and sizes slammed itched at the inside of her chest. She felt like she might be dying, but she wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know,” Pearl whispered.

“It’s okay not to know.”

“How can you be so _calm?_ ”

Garnet laughed, but it was fake and, this time, even Pearl could tell. 

“What use would it be for me to get worked up when I can’t do anything?”

Pearl shook her head. Unlike Garnet, she couldn’t help it.

The other woman pulled her in and kissed the top of her head, rubbing her shoulder. “I promise that if I hear a peep from anyone, I’ll let you know.”

She looked up to Garnet with the shimmer of tired, wet eyes. The words came out without her permission.

“It’s not my fault, is it?” 

Garnet’s expression tightened.

“Pearl.”

“I’m honestly asking. Is it because I’ve been so awful to everyone lately?”

She took a moment before responding. Her voice was even.

“Amethyst is the only one in charge of her actions.”

That’s not what Pearl wanted to hear, but she knew from experience that she wasn’t going to get much more out of her. Everyone was telling her not to be so hard on herself, yet everyone was also giving her the sense that she was making things worse for everyone. Pearl didn’t know what to believe anymore. 

“I’m going to start dinner. Need anything?” 

Pearl shook her head, sinking down into the couch and under the blankets.

 

* * *

 

She woke up the next morning on the couch.

She weighed herself (down two pounds). Showered. Put on Greg’s shirt and a pair of jeans.

Garnet was already at work. There was no sign that Amethyst had come home.

She sat at the table and looked at her mug of coffee. She didn’t even feel like drinking it even though she was exhausted.

( _I’m making everything worse._ )

Words flipped around in her head, made her heart thump against her chest. Her anxiety had been worse lately. Or, maybe her heart was just beating irregularly. It felt the same, which was kind of scary.

Her head found its way in her hands. She should eat something, drink something, even if its coffee, but the idea of putting anything in her mouth made her feel ill. She should exercise, but the idea of running hurt her knees and her chest and her brain.

She hadn’t realized she was pulling at her hair until her scalp began to scream at her.

( _Amethyst is gone because of you.)_

She released her head and wrapped her hand around the coffee mug. 

“Like I don’t know that.”

( _And, what are you doing? Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself?_ )

“What else is there to do?”

( _THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT_ )

“I know, I know.”

She stood up, throwing her cold coffee down the drain.

Better at least attempt to do something, even if it’s just to get her damn brain to shut up.

 

* * *

 

She sat on the cold chair of the Urgent Care doctor’s office and shivered. She was here for a “checkup” because she had been “feeling sick,” but that wasn’t really it.

(She was trying to prove she was not sick enough/too sick.)

The nurse came in, had her step on the scale (up two pounds with her clothes on), took her blood pressure, measured her temperature, respiration, and heart rate.

She wrote down every number on the chart, and Pearl could tell by the way her eyes flicked back in forth between the different indices that she was in for it.

The doctor would be in shortly. 

Pearl found that she felt like Steven, kicking her legs that dangled off the chair. They sure looked weird in her jeans. When was the last time she wore jeans? This pair had been tight just a few months ago, she recalled with a twisted mix of pride and exhaustion. 

It really was exhausting.

The doctor came in. He looked pretty grim. Pearl braced herself. 

Weight very low. BP in the toilet. Heart rate at a snail’s pace. Temperature below normal.

“Pearl,” he began slowly. It was almost like if he spoke too harshly, she would scuttle away and hide under the counter. “You’re very sick.”

Dammit. Those were the words she did not/did want to hear.

“I don’t feel that bad. Just like I have a cold or something.”

His eyes didn’t leave her face.

“I think you should be admitted.”

“W-What? You mean, go to the hospital? I can’t afford to go to the hospital. I don’t have health insurance.”

She wished she asked Garnet to come along, just so she could have backup. But, Garnet would probably say something like, ‘He’s the professional. You should listen to him.’ 

“I understand, but if you leave here, there’s a chance you might die.” 

The words didn’t seem to register. _Die?_ She didn’t feel nearly that bad. Besides being tired and cold, she felt pretty darn good. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Maybe she should have just stayed in her bed and let herself slowly rot there.

Pearl shook her head, that familiar panic rising in her voice.

“I have no choice. I simply can’t afford it. And, what, they’re just going to pump me full of fluids, give me some pills, and send me home? There’s no point.”

His expression seemed to darken.

“You do understand that if you don’t admit yourself, you will be going against medical advice, correct?”

She just shrugged and shook her head, not able to process the situation.

A voice somewhere in the back of her head said, ( _At least dying is free_.)

 

* * *

 

Pearl paid her fee (twenty dollars for vitals and a guy to give her “medical advice,” Jesus Christ) and stormed out. She wasn’t sure what she was mad about. She did go there to seek someone’s opinion. 

(The truth was she already knew the answers, she just hoped it would turn out differently. It wasn’t like she just didn’t want to get treatment. It was actually not feasible. Ballet companies don’t have the money to supply health insurance, and even if they did, it wouldn’t cover mental health services, so she was basically fucked. It scared her half to death.)

Because, after all, she had A Problem, right? This wasn’t something that would just go away on its own, right? How was she supposed to get better if the very idea of eating more than a few hundred calories a day paralyzed her with fear?

Plus, Amethyst still hadn’t contacted them, and that filled her with even more worry. The idea of going home made her sad. It would be empty. Lonely. There would be no one shouting at the TV or making something to eat in the kitchen. It would just be her, waiting for Garnet to get home from work.

She found herself sitting on the beach because she felt stuck. Nowhere to go. No more options. She’d exhausted them all, including herself. 

Laying back on the sand, Pearl was glad she wore Greg’s shirt again because it seemed to be even colder than it had been the previous few days. She crossed her arms and stared at the sky. It was still blue. Seagulls _cawed_ overhead.

She hadn’t realized she let her eyes close.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Pearl. You’re making this_ _worse for yourself_.”

The words were Rose’s, but Rose was dead.

The conversation played on like it was a recording.

_“I’m so sad, Rose. I don’t know what to do.”_

_“Sitting here isn’t going to make it better.”_

_“I know, I know. Please, I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”_

_“I have to.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Pearl, you’re so young. You have your whole life, your whole career ahead of you. I will only hold you back.”_

The words stung as freshly as they did back them. They were such vicious lies. Rose just wanted to wash her hands clean. That much was clear, in retrospect.

_“No, no—I can’t live without you. You’re the only thing that matters.” She repeated, “Please don’t leave me.”_

“ _Pearl. I think you should go._ ”

This was all a dream, right?

" _I'm sorry._ "

Ugh, everything was all thick and syrupy. She couldn’t quite open her eyes all the way.

Her skin felt cold. She groaned, feeling a vibration in her pocket. It was her cell phone. She ignored it. Sleep pulled at her mind, wanting her to drift farther down into unconsciousness. 

But, she felt someone looming above her. Her eyes popped open. It was night all of a sudden.

“Hey, Pearl.”

“Steven?”

“Sleeping on the beach?”

“Yeah.”

He laid down next to her.

“How are you feeling?” 

She didn’t bother to hide her exhaustion. “Ugh.”

“Yeah? That’s no good.” He paused and turned his head to look at her. “Have you eaten today?”

The question caught her off guard, and she wondered if she was still dreaming.

“Huh?” 

“Not eating can make you feel bad. More tired and stuff. That’s why breakfast is important.” At this point, Steven was sitting up, gazing out over the ocean, slowly rocking back and forth as if there was an imaginary tune somewhere in his mind. “And, I know you don’t like to eat very much. That’s why I’m asking.”

She sat up too, eyes wide. 

“How do you know that?” 

“I had a dream about you a couple nights ago,” he said enthusiastically, half smiling at her. 

“Oh…” She had dreamt about him too.

“I’m sorry you’re sick, but I think you can get better!”

Pearl swallowed, unsure how to process this information.

“How?” 

It wasn’t like she was expecting an answer.

“I don’t know, but I think you can do it.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it might have been closer to the truth than she was willing to admit. 

“I can’t talk about this anymore.”

She had been dwelling all day on herself/her problems/her health, and Pearl just wanted to _not think_. 

“Okay.” He crossed his legs and continued to bob his head to an imaginary beat. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” she muttered. 

“Oh. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

With a quick inhale, she realized she shouldn’t have said that. “No, that’s not what I mean. I just don’t want to talk about anything. I want you to stay, though.”

Steven smiled, seemingly content. “Alright.”

Even having her eyes closed while sitting up was better than having them open and talking. And, having Steven next to her was nice too. He had a calming sort of effect on her. He always knew what to say, or in this case, what not to say. 

But, as usual, the silence sat on her and made her nervous. Or maybe that was just her stupid heart flopping over in her chest again. 

“I had a dream about you, too, Steven.”

Pearl hadn’t opened her eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you talk to me about yourself in it?”

“Yeah.” 

“Hmm.”

When Pearl opened her eyes, she noticed that he had started to form the sand in small lumps and designs.

“Weird, huh?” she said.

“Yeah. I don’t know what it means.”

“Me either.”

The atmosphere had turned awkward. Mentally, Pearl admonished herself. Why did she keep messing with this kid? He was obviously happier when she wasn’t around. Why did she keep doing this? It seemed like everything Pearl touched got worse. She was beginning to see that it was better if she didn’t associate with anyone at all. Maybe checking herself in the nuthouse wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Hey, Pearl, are you okay?” 

Ugh, if she heard that question one more damn time.

“Yes.”

“You look sad again.”

( _Get over it, kid. I’m always like this._ )

“Sorry.”

“Is there something going on?” He seemed to sense that there was an extra layer of sadness plastered over her skin and bones.

“Ugh.” Her head found her way into her hands again. “Yes, okay. My roommate is missing.”

“Oh no! That’s terrible!”

“I think it’s my fault.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I don’t know. A lot of reasons.” She didn’t want to talk about it. “I think she might have run away, or something.” Pearl sighed. “But, she’s like my little sister, and I’m really scared something happened to her.”

“Hmm, what does she look like?” 

“Short, stalky. Purple hair.”

“Long purple hair?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve seen her but not in the last few days. I’ll look out for her.”

“Thanks, Steven.” 

“You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

 

She walked down the BoredWalk and ignored her phone.

( _Why are you ignoring Garnet’s calls? She’s probably worried sick._ )

She couldn’t go home at that moment. Too much guilt crushing her. 

She allowed herself to pass the studios of BCB. It was late enough that it was empty.

They don’t lock the place up well. The back door is always unlocked. Not like there was anything to steal except tutus, really. 

She stood in the middle of the studio and looked at herself in the mirror.

(She still couldn’t tell what she looked like. All she knew was that she was a shell of a girl that she used to know.)

Before she knew what she was doing, she was humming a tune from _Giselle._

Dancing slowly in the empty room, Pearl tried to imagine Rose as they danced the second act together. She remembered how she looked, how she moved, but her brain was foggy, and the whole thing just felt empty.

(Had The Lonely already taken the place of her?)

Maybe.

Maybe she had just lost herself to that emptiness. She couldn’t remember what it even really felt like to be anything but a shell of a girl drifting along, tripping over her own feet. 

(She missed dancing. She twirled around, waltzing, and turning, and—oh man—not being allowed to dance was the worst.)

Maybe if she did let go of her and let The Lonely consume her—maybe she could move on? 

When she left the building, she could feel loneliness trying to follow her home.

She was almost too afraid to go back home because she could feel it in the house.

(There was only her and The Lonely.)

She crawled into bed and sang herself a quiet lullaby.

She could feel loneliness hold her until she fell asleep.

 


	8. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants to tell the truth.
> 
> But, what happens is, it turns out that no one wants to hear it.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

A small girl sat curled up in the passenger seat. Her messy Manic Panic green hair fell in her face.

“Don’t worry, Peri. We’re just taking a road trip.”

“Do you even know how to drive?”

“Sorta. We just gotta…” She hit the clutch, shifted gears, pressed the gas, and the vehicle moved forward. “Yeah, just like that. We’re not going far. Jasper said we could stay with her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh, duh. I wouldn’t drag you along if I didn’t think this was, like, literally the best plan ever.”

“Isn’t the school going to get mad?”

“Pfft. Who cares?” 

“My mom does…”

“Oh, whoopdee-doo. She’ll get over it." 

Amethyst struggled to shift into 2nd gear.

“I can hear her now,” the girl sat up in her seat and put her hands on her hips. Her voice deepens an octave. “' _Peridot! I’m going to fucking murder you if you ever skip school again!_ ’”

“True dat _—_ but _listen_ , you have to let loose every once in a while. If you don’t, you end up like _Pearl_.” She rolled her eyes and braked at the red light.

“I highly doubt I will ever be like Pearl.”

“And, that’s why we’re friends.”

Amethyst was not sure how she drove to Jasper’s house without getting arrested or killing anyone, but they made it.

They knocked on the door. A woman twice the height of Peridot and Amethyst appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, look, it’s the Rebel Twins.” That was a joke because the only thing similar about Amethyst and Peridot were their short heights. She moved out of the way so they could enter. They scrambled in like the kids they were.

“Remote’s on the table, pizza is in the fridge. I’ve got a practice. Don’t burn down the house.”

She left with her bag and locked the door behind her.

Peridot and Amethyst grinned at each other.

Cutting school was way better than going to school.

 

* * *

 

Amethyst and Peridot laid on the couch, lethargic from inactivity and too much old pizza. The TV flickered with reruns of Crying Breakfast Friends. There was a marathon, apparently. They had watched it all night and into the afternoon. Jasper and her roommate had passed through a couple of times, but they didn’t seem to care about the kids on the couch.

Garnet and Pearl were probably starting to worry at this point. It had been a day since she peaced out. She should have felt guilty.

(And she did.) 

“Yo, Peri.”

“What?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“I guess.” She sounded annoyed.

“You don’t have to listen. I’m just going to talk out loud.”

“Knock yourself out.” 

Amethyst sat up and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She stared at the TV like she was watching it. Sad Spoon and Pear sobbed in the background.

“I’m so fucking annoyed with everyone in my goddamn house.”

“Yeah. I figured when you asked me to ditch school with you.”

Amethyst rolled her eyes. 

“Ever since Pearl got cut from that stupid piece, she’s been a literal walking disaster. Like, you would think that someone who is an actual adult could handle shit, but _apparently not._ ”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“More like fucking infuriating. Garnet is being  _so weird_ , and everyone is just acting like it’s okay for Pearl to be flying off the handle. Like, she’s going to kill herself, I’m pretty sure, and no one is saying anything. It’s like we’re in an alternate universe or something.”

“Have you told her to get help?”

Peridot was somewhat aware what was wrong with Pearl through Amethyst, but she had been pretty vague. She did not know that Pearl was a walking doll, porcelain and fragile.

“I mean, sorta, I guess? Garnet told me she talked to her, but it didn’t seem to go over well.”

“Have _you_ said anything, though?”

“Uhh…” Besides berating her with insults? “No.”

“Well, clearly, you are being reactionary towards her and not exactly what could be considered… _helpful._ ”

“Ugh, shut up, Peri. You sound like a goddamn shrink.” 

Peridot pushed up her glasses and sneered.

“You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

Amethyst sighed, shooting a look at the other girl.

“Whatever. I just want Pearl to stop acting like a goddamn basket case.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe she’s suffering, too?”  
  
“Oh, I know she’s suffering because she makes it very fucking clear.”

“What if it’s the way she’s asking for help?”

Amethyst frowned.

“Well, it’s a fucking shitty way of asking for help. She could just, y’know, ask for help.”

Peridot seemed unamused, as if she knew this conversation was ridiculous.

“Is cutting school and making Garnet and Pearl probably extremely worried your way of asking for help?”

“Wow, way to be blunt.”

“I’m _just saying_. You’re quite dramatic yourself, so going after Pearl seems to be a way of avoiding your own problems.”

“Okay, we’re taking you back to the office, Dr. Peridot.”

There was the sound of someone coming down the hall.

A tall, slender girl with short pinned back hair stuck her head into the living room. She looked like she was done with everyone’s shit, but there was something about it that was refreshing to Amethyst. She wanted to go up to her and say, “Me too, buddy.”

A flash of confusion passed over her, but it only lasted a second before she said, “Are you talking about Pearl?”

“Huh?” This girl knew Pearl? How? Pearl had friends?

“You guys are loud. You said Pearl’s name, so I assume you’re talking about Pearl.”

“Why do you care?”

“I dance with Pearl. But, I haven’t seen her since she fell during rehearsal. Is she okay?”

Peridot chimed in. 

“Clearly not.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.”

The girl trudged with a bag similar to Pearl’s. She opened the door and left, slamming it shut behind her.

Amethyst had a feeling that conversation was going to backfire on her later.

 

* * *

 

Pearl opened her eyes and shut them again.

Everything hurt. 

She couldn’t get out of bed.

She just slept.

She was too tired.

 

* * *

 

The next time she was conscious was when her phone started ringing. It was still on her floor. She would have ignored it, but when she rolled over to look at it, Lapis’ name popped up.

Lapis? Why would she be calling her?

She didn’t have time to think about it because she already had flipped open her phone and picked up the call.

“Hello?” 

“ _Uh, hi, Pearl. It’s Lapis._ ”

“Hi, Lapis.” Her own voice sounded coarse from sleeping all day. “It’s nice to hear from you.” 

“ _Yeah, sorry I didn’t call sooner. I’ve been really busy. You know how it is._ ”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

(She’s surprised she called at all.)

“ _I heard from a friend of yours that you’re not doing so well_.”

“Friend? Who talked to you?”

“Um, I don’t know her name. She’s friends with Jasper. I don’t know. She's short. Purple hair, annoying.” 

Her heart may have stopped.

“You’ve seen Amethyst?!”

“Uh, I guess?”

“She’s been _missing_. I’ve been meaning to call the police!”

“Well, that sucks. She’s been at my house with her friend for a couple of days. Jasper just kicked them out because they ate all the leftover pizza.”

Ugh. Yep, that’s Amethyst.

“So, she might still be around?”

“Sure. It didn’t look like they were going very far. They didn’t even bother to take their car.”

Well, Amethyst didn’t have a car or a license, so that was going to be a conversation. 

“Okay, thank you so much, Lapis! I have to go, but it was nice hearing from you, and thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“No problem. Take care.”

 

* * *

 

Pearl had never moved so fast in her life.

She grabbed ~~his~~ her shirt and her now baggy jeans, threw them on, and bolted out the door. She was so single-minded that she forgot to weigh herself.

Oh, and tell Garnet.

She began just walking fast down the BoredWalk (although it was not so boring anymore), but it turned into a sprint fairly quickly. Lapis lived by the shore, so chances were good that she would be around there.

Her chest was all twisted up with relief and fear, so much of both that she wasn’t sure what it meant.

(She did know that finding Amethyst meant having a Talk, one that she did not particularly want to have.)

She should have known that she would run into Steven. After all, he’s always there. 

He noticed that she looked to be in a hurry, so he caught up to her and was running beside her. 

“Hey, Pearl! What’re you doing?”

“Looking for Amethyst.”

“Oh! Yeah, she’s your roommate, right?”

“Yes, Steven.”

It was hard to talk and run at the same time, but she was running off of adrenaline and fumes at this point. 

“Have you tried looking by the harbor?”

Her head snapped to look at him. He was barely breathing hard, and she was panting.

“No,” she gasped for air between words, “Have you seen her?”

“No, but I have a feeling she might be there.” 

(Why did Steven always give her the feeling that he might just be magic?)

“I’ll look there.” She patted him on the shoulder, which was a bit awkward to do while running. “Thank you, Steven!”

“No prob, Bob!”

And Pearl took off towards the harbor. Steven stopped running and waved goodbye as she ran out of sight.

 

* * *

 

The harbor was close, but to Pearl, it felt like a light year. 

It was late and dark and cold, and even the exercise could do nothing to warm the ice that had crawled into her bones.

At first, she was skeptical that Steven could be right, that he could know where she was without seeing her, but the longer she ran, the more Pearl entertained the possibility.

He did seem to be able to do…something. He had more or less been in her dream the other night, quite literally. She would have never told him those things about herself if she knew it was really Steven she was talking to. She felt stupid.

Surprise, surprise.

When didn’t she feel like a failure, or at the very least, a total asshole?

Even when she saw a small figure sitting on the wooden dock, she almost didn’t believe it. But, there was Amethyst, short and stocky, and purple-haired, and completely safe. 

“Amethyst!” 

The girl whipped around and groaned loudly when she saw who called her name.

“Dammit, P.”

She said it quietly, but loudly enough that Pearl could still hear it. 

She rushed over, sat down, and threw her arms around her, and Amethyst couldn’t help but relax in her admittedly sharp embrace.

“Oh, heavens! I’m so glad you’re safe. We were worried sick! Oh my gosh.” Her words rushed out too fast and her grip was too hard. 

“Oh, c’mon, Pearl, stop it.”

Pearl released her and frowned.

“Sorry. But, also, what did you think you were doing running off like that?”

Amethyst sat there awkwardly as if she didn’t want to talk for once in her life.

“Sorry.” 

Pearl sighed and crossed her arms. She felt the awkwardness, too, but she didn’t know how to maneuver around it.

So, she just dove right into it. 

“Is it my fault?”

Amethyst looked up at her, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Kinda.”

Oh. Ouch.

(That was the kind of thing that Pearl did not want to hear. She knew it was true, but she would have rather not believed it.)

“I don’t get it, P. You’ve got us, and you’re living your dream dancing and stuff, but you still do this shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I mean, yeah, I know you are. But, do you ever think about how it affects us?”

“Yes. All the time.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” 

“Would you mind if I told you the truth?”

The question sounded weird coming from her mouth.

“Huh?” 

“I mean, if I am honest with you, is that okay?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

There are certain things about having an eating disorder that no one talks about.

They say that body dysmorphia is something that comes with starving yourself into nothing, but the clinical term doesn’t really hold the correct weight that actually experiencing it does. You simply cannot see. You will stare and stare and stare and all you can tell is that you are incorrect, that something is wrong, that something must be done about this.

You will put on makeup and stare and stare and stare because you’re not sure if you are pretty or ugly or anything because you cannot see.

You look in the mirror one time and ( _Oh God, I’m so fucking fat_ ) and you look again and ( _shit, I’m getting kind of skinny—wow—I didn’t even think it was possible_ ) and then you look again and ( _Is that me? I look huge!_ )

And restricting, even though it is terrible/horrible/no good/very bad, feels great.

(You are always always always hungry, but when you think about how many calories you ate that day and see the number on the scale, you are filled with a sense of pride and euphoria that is unmatched.) 

You want to stop because you know you are killing yourself, but you don’t want to stop because you know you are killing yourself.

You want to stop because you are miserable, but you don’t want to stop because this false happiness is better than admitting you’re actually miserable.

 _They_ say that it’s about control (which is ridiculous because of course it’s about control, every action a human does is about controlling their lives) but it is really a means of distraction. Everything seems easier when all you have to worry about are numbers and kcals and grams of fat. They all add up. They are tangible concepts because you can see yourself disappearing as you subtract.

Unfortunately, your brain and life do not add up.

Your brain speeds a million miles an hour and then slows as it wades through sludge. Your body cries for energy, and you stop listening—you create your own reality where you honestly believe you will gain all the weight back if you eat just a little “too much,” whatever _that_ is. Your brain lights up with a million Christmas lights when you realize you are succeeding in making yourself thin but crashes back down when you realize you have to keep _doing this forever._

(You know you can’t do it forever).

(You either die, or you slide into a different form of the disorder, or you eat. There are no other options.)

Even when confronted with this reality, you still tell yourself ( _I have to do this, I am not like other people, they are stupid, they will get fat, I will get fat, I won’t stop._ )

Or, more accurately, you can’t stop.

No one wants to admit that as much as an eating disorder feels terrible, it feels _amazing._

(And, even worse, _you don’t know how to stop._ )

The reason you’re like this is you can’t cope with yourself, or your life, or the pressure. How are you supposed to know how to stop?

That’s what professionals are for, they say. Go to a therapist, take medication, repeat ~~magical incantations~~ positive affirmations and follow your meal plan, they say. 

Yes, because it is so easy and possible to receive treatment for mental illness in the great country of the United States of America.

(Haha.)

Fuck _them._ Fuck all of them. Fuck the stupid neurotypicals who think it is easy to get help, that even when you’re looking and able to get help that it helps. Fuck the psychologists that put mental illnesses into boxes. Fuck insurance companies for not covering treatment unless you’re going to fucking die. Fuck everyone for looking on at the show and pretending like it’s something that can be turned on and off like a goddamn fucking light switch.

You don’t want to be this way, but guess what? You fucking are.

And, you have to deal with it.

 


	9. Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's probably time, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: very explicit discussion about suicidal ideation

Baring her insides made her feel hollow.

Maybe it was good she couldn’t throw up. She didn’t quite like the feeling of being carved out. Amethyst had stared at her, listening as she talked quietly about the demons that slammed around behind her eyes. A part of Pearl felt as though these were things that should never have been shared, especially with someone so young, but keeping Amethyst in the dark was clearly worse.

The girl had pulled Pearl into a hug, but it was with a familiar hesitance that came with being only bones.

She called Garnet to pick them up. (She was too tired to walk home.)

They sat together quietly, looking over the rippling black ocean.

Amethyst looked up at her.

“Hey, P?”

“Yes, Amethyst?”

“It’s going to be okay—you know that, right?”

She breathed in deeply and faked a smile.

It was all she could really do because she knew it wasn’t going to be okay. Not really.

 

* * *

 

The car ride was tense at best. Garnet was, of course, relieved to know that Amethyst was safe, but she looked angry. Her hands gripped the steering wheel too tight. 

“I’m disappointed in the both of you.”

Pearl looked down at her clenched fists. She felt as though it would be best to not say anything, for once. 

“Pearl, you should not have run off without letting me know where you were going, especially if you had information about Amethyst’s whereabouts.”

“I’m right here, y’know,” Amethyst quipped.

“And, Amethyst. Skipping school and running away is unacceptable and dangerous.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just ground me or whatever, _Mom_.”

Pearl could see Garnet’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

“That’s enough.”

Silence came out of the speaker of the car and wafted through the open windows.

(They should have been talking, communicating, but they weren't. They couldn’t stand the truth any more than they could stand each other.)

When they got home, no one said a word. They just went to bed. It was late after all, and you know what they say—the show must go on.

 

* * *

 

Pearl laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

She couldn’t sleep even though she was exhausted. Negative thoughts were berating her. 

( _This is all your fault/this is why everyone hates you/honestly, you pushed Amethyst right out of the house/you made Garnet angry/you are a failure/you are a nuisance._ )

She found herself standing the in bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.

All she could see were the wrinkles around her mouth, the circles under her eyes, the hair that laid limp and greasy on her head. Maybe she should shower? Maybe she should care about how she looked? It just seemed like so much work. 

She weighed herself. (Down three pounds.) A few sparks went off behind her eyes. Wow, three pounds? That couldn’t possibly have been right. 

She weighed herself again. (Same weight as before.) 

Hm.

After Garnet made her eat so much the day before, she would have thought she would have gained weight.

(The body is strange. Metabolism slows during starvation, but give it food, and it’s going to grab and use it so fast because every cell in the body is crying for glucose. Pearl had read about hypermetabolic states in patients who were being refed, but it didn’t fit into her narrative, so she ignored it.) 

Pearl wiggled her toes on the scale, making the needle bounce around. She supposed she should have a goal weight, but she stopped caring about those when she realized she was never going to be happy until she disappeared completely.

Did she want to disappear? Did she actually want to die?

( _ ~~Yes~~._ ) 

Was it worth it anymore? Was it worth it? Was it worth it? Was it worth it?

Was she worth it?

The question was too hard to answer, too hard to think about. It was physical pain. The very idea of seriously contemplating the worth of her own existence made her feel like she was carving her own skin.

And, she knew what that felt like.

Gutted from the inside out. Take a fishing hook and thread it through her lips.

(Panic coated her like a fresh sheet of snow.)

She bent over the toilet and dry heaved, but you can’t throw up if you don’t eat anything. The joke was on her. 

( _Just continue to be a disaster._ ) 

This was when she realized ( _I cannot do it_ ). Not anymore. It was over. Done. 

(She was over and done.) 

This was it. This was the end.

When you can’t go to bed or wake up or participate in society in a functional way, you don’t deserve to exist.

She could step on the scale and prove she barely existed but 

(SHE STILL EXISTED) 

Put that fire out. Squish that bug. Goddamn, get it over with. No one is here to watch her fall apart at the seams and watch her red fuzzy stuffing spill onto the floor.

(No one cares/No one cares/No one cares—)

Okay, people care—

(But not enough and not in the right ways.)

She wasn’t strong enough to ask for more.

Because, really, it did not matter. _She_ did not matter. It was very clear. It was bright and real, and she knew she didn’t matter, and she didn’t care that she didn’t matter.

(Liar.) 

Maybe on some level, she cared. What level that was, she didn’t know. She wanted to die in the way she wanted to not exist. And, unfortunately, there is only one way to not exist.

Pearl looked back up at her reflection in the mirror, catching a glance at her eyes. They were calm. 

She went back to bed, and this time, she was able to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_The sun blazed overhead, but everything was cold—the water, the air, the inside of her._

_This was it then, right?_

_Looking up at the sun, it burned into her eyes._

_Was this the last time she’d ever see the sun again?_

_She took a step in and the cold temperature made her shiver. But, she kept moving forward, taking one step and then another, and then another, and—_

_The water was so cold, but it was gracious for her attention and swallowed her up nicely. She forced the air out of her lungs, and water rushed into her. She couldn’t feel the pain of lungs seizing or water crawling where it shouldn’t have gone._

_It was nice. Peaceful. Silent._

_Well, it was until she could hear someone shouting. She couldn’t make out what the words were or who was making them, but they were still there. It was annoying. She was waiting for her vision to dim, for her brain to give up._

_But, then she heard it again._

_“—earl! Pearl! Pearl!”_

_Someone was calling her name._

_Before she knew what was happening, a small hand tugged at her arm. Before she could lose consciousness, she saw the watering eyes of a boy and the blinding light of the sun, and—_

 

* * *

 

When Garnet and Amethyst left the house the next morning, Pearl decided it was safe to start working.

She got up, showered, stepped on the scale (maintained from last night). She put on a pretty dress, one that was white and blue with pretty flowers. (It was big at her waist.) She curled her hair, which was not super long to begin with, so the curls bounced along her jaw when she ran a brush through them. She even put on a little makeup for the first time in days. 

(In her room, there was a box located at the back of her drawer that had a pearl necklace. It was the first gift she ever received from Rose.) 

( ~~When everything was still good and fine.~~ )

Looking at her reflection in the vanity in her room, she fastened the necklace around her neck. She turned, looking at herself from different angles.

Pearl decided that she looked pretty.

 

* * *

 

She left two notes on her desk, one labeled for Garnet and one for Amethyst. She admired them briefly, the looping cursive making their names look far more beautiful than when she said them out loud. 

Maybe she should feel guilty, and in a way, she did. She hated that she had to do this, but it would be better off this way. It would certainly sadden them for a while, but honestly, with the amount of trouble she’d been causing lately

(why would anyone miss her?)

She slipped on a pair of shoes and slipped out the door, bringing nothing with her but the pearl necklace around her neck and the clothing on her body.

 

* * *

 

It was, admittedly, a nice day, for whatever that was worth.

The walk was quiet. Maybe even peaceful. She wasn’t exactly sure what those words meant anymore. Or, maybe she wasn’t letting herself know, wasn't letting herself experience it because she had already decided what she was going to do. 

(After all, it was better to just not think about anything at all.) 

She stood at the edge of the sand, where the granules turned to rocks and waves tickled at her feet. She had taken off her shoes, only wearing a pretty summer dress, but it was a bit too chilly to wear comfortably. She wiggled her toes, and they sunk into the sand. 

Her lungs breathed in the sea spray air, but it didn’t feel like much. She didn’t feel like anything aside from a body with a small bit of adrenalin that made her heart beat irregularly in her chest.

(It was weird that she was more scared of dying of a heart attack than she was from dying by her own hand.) 

She should probably get it over with since her brain was spinning in so many weird directions, anyway.

But, just as she was about to take a step in the water, someone called her name. 

“Pearl!”

She whipped around, not expecting to see the Universe boy.

“S-Steven…”

He never looked quite as scared as he did right then. His entire body seemed to quake. It was almost like he already knew what she was trying to do.

“P-Pearl,” he muttered, hands fumbling.

“What’s wrong, Steven?” she asked quietly, giving him a sympathetic look.

He barely let her finish talking.

“You can’t.” 

She tried to feign innocence.

“It’s okay, Steven. I’m just admiring the ocean.”

Looking out at it, the water seemed to stretch on forever. It was endless—infinite. It looked so safe, like it could just carry her away to a different world and to a different life where she was not trapped in this cage of a body.

It was so peaceful, so in reach, but his voice shocked her from her musings again. 

“I-I had a dream that’d you’d be here.” 

(Her name being called over and over again, worried eyes looking down at her before she slipped away—)

He omitted the rest of the details. The both of them knew what had happened, anyway.

“Steven—” 

He had already come closer to her, grabbing her hand. Gently, he tugged her, so she tipped slightly and had to stumble away from the water to catch her balance.

Looking down, Pearl realized that the boy had tears in his eyes.

“You can’t, Pearl. Please.”

(He looked so sad.)

( _No, no, don’t think about it now. Don’t think about that._ )

Pearl’s heart was lurching in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was because Steven was breaking her heart or if she had already broken her own.

She found herself crouching down, holding each side of his face gently in her hands. Pearl had tears in her eyes too.

“Steven, everything’s okay. Just go back and find your father—”

He began to shake his head between her small hands.

“No! I won’t! I won’t!”

She didn’t know what to do to get him to go away, but—oh God—she wished he would just _go away_ —

“Why, Steven?”

He choked on his own words, tears spilling like someone had just broken the dam in his eyes.

“I-I don’t want you to die, Pearl!” 

This girl could feel the cracks in her skin start to deepen. She had tried and tried and tried to keep herself together, but the fissures kept opening, gaping, ripping her skin open at the seams. She didn’t want to burden him, but she was breaking open.

The tears started pouring out. 

Steven had never seen her cry like that before. She dipped her head down so he wouldn’t be able to tell that rivers flowed out of her eyes and flooded the ocean. Her hands dropped down to her knees, and her shoulders bounced as if she were laughing. 

This time, Steven took Pearl’s cheeks in his hands, forcing her to look up at him.

“ _Pearl_. Can’t you see how sad you are?”

It seemed like a ridiculous question. Of course, she knew how sad she was. That was why she wanted it to be over.

She was embarrassed that he was looking at her in such a state. She wanted to disappear, to fold herself so small that no one knew she existed anymore.

Regardless of how hard she cried, Steven continued.

“You need to talk to someone,” he urged her. The earnest look in his eyes was frustrating. “You can’t handle this by yourself even though you keep trying to.” 

“T-to who? How? I don’t—I don't know what to do anymore—I feel s-so trapped. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go and get my dad. He can help!”

Her words came out much too fast and much too hostile.

“No! I don’t want Greg’s help.”

She was trying so hard to not let words pour out. She was trying so hard to keep her thoughts and feelings inside her, but he just wouldn’t stop. 

“Why?” 

“Steven, please—”

“Pearl, tell me why—”

“Steven—” 

“Why, Pearl? Why?”

She couldn’t stop herself. 

“Because I want to die!”

Oh.

Oh no.

That was it.

That was what she was trying not to say. That was what she was trying to hide from Steven. 

(He didn’t need to know.)

But, there they were. It happened. She couldn’t take it back.

The boy shook, tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, no, Steven. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Please, don’t cry—”

“Why?! Why would you want to die? There are so many people that care about you!” 

“Steven—”

“No! You were so worried about Amethyst disappearing, and she was fine. But, can you imagine how your friends would feel when they found out you were gone?” 

She tried not to say anything. She really did try.

“Yes. I can.” Her entire body tensed. She pulled away from Steven’s tiny hands. “When I learned that Rose died—I thought I would never feel happiness again.”

Steven stood there silently, the only sounds being his small sniffles. 

“I-I don’t think I’ll ever be the same—”

This time, her own tears interrupted her words. Her entire body shook with emotion that she had been suppressing for at least a decade. It rushed out of her, more intense than she even thought she could feel ever again.

(She felt horrible/horrible/horrible.)

“I’m s-so sorry, S-Steven.”

“It’s okay to be sad, Pearl.”

He said this like he wasn’t holding back tears himself.

“I don’t want to be sad anymore.”

“I know. But, even though it feels really, really bad right now, there’s always going to be something else. I know Mom is dead, and it really, really sucks, but there are people who love you and care for you, and—and Pearl—just please, please don’t die.”

She didn’t even know how to begin to respond.

(Mostly, she didn’t want to think of how she would hurt Garnet, and Amethyst, and Steven, or even Lapis or Greg. It was too difficult to think about, so she just pushed it away.)

She couldn’t think about anything.

Steven stepped away from her because it seemed like she wasn’t going to move anytime soon.

(Her body was heavy, almost limp.)

“Is it okay if I call my dad?”

Pearl couldn’t do anything but shrug.

So, Steven called.

 

* * *

 

He picked her up in his big hands, getting her to her feet.

(This was worse/This was worse/She could see the anger in his eyes/She could see his disappointment—) 

She was messing up his kid/Her kid.

She was messing up.

Words escaped. 

“Greg—I’m so sorry. Greg, please don’t be mad—I didn’t mean—” 

He was mad. He didn’t say anything.

She wished desperately that she had just run into the ocean and Let Herself Die.

 

* * *

 

She sat on the sand and stared at her hands.

Who was she, anyway?

Who was she?

Steven sat inside the van, curled up so his head rested against his knees. 

(Pearl wanted to cry/to cry/to cry—why was it better for her to be alive and have everyone hate her than to be dead and never know?)

( ~~She had always known.~~ )

“Greg, please, I’m sorry,” she tried again. He looked down at her with a blank expression.

(Anger.)

She felt the same way—

(angry/angry/angry/sad/sad/disappointed/frustrated/stupid/dumb/dumb)

It all felt insurmountable.

She wished she hadn’t been caught because now she would have to deal with Garnet and Amethyst, and their disappointment.

The idea made her cringe so hard, it made her heart flop in her chest.

Pearl stood, taking a few steps towards Greg.

“Greg, please, I’m sorry,” she pleaded, tiny hands on his arms as he called (someone/no one/anyone who would throw her in the nut house).

“I know, Pearl,” he huffed, covering the receiver of his cell phone. “I heard you the first dozen times.” 

( _Yes, but I am also sorry that I am messing up your kid and that he has to keep seeing me like this, I don’t want him to, I wish he would have just stayed far away from me, I wish everyone would have just stayed far away from me)_

It didn’t occur to Pearl that the illogical thought process that she was experiencing may have been due to the fact that she had barely eaten or had anything to drink in several days.

Eating was one thing. Hydration was another.

“Greg,” she tried again, gripping tighter at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Please. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t.”

He ignored her. 

Pearl released him and stepped away, taking unsteady steps toward the ocean. She wasn’t going to try, not when there were so many eyes, but—

Oh God, she messed everything up.

Rose had been right. She was nothing. She was better off as a tool to be utilized and cast aside. At least tools could be broken down and recycled for some other use. That was all Pearl was good for. She deserved to be used.

She deserved this. 

Staring out over the water, Pearl felt like she was separate from herself.

(Separate from the grief of losing the only person she cared about, separate from the self-hatred, the guilt, the blame/fault/fault/FAULT/FAULT/FAULT/IT WAS ALL HER FAULT—)

Fault/fault/fault

(Death/doom/deserve)

( _THIS IS ALL MY FAULT )_

Her hand made her way up to her forehead. She was sweating.

(Wish/wash/won’t)

(Could/should/should not/ _but shouldn’t I?)_

The skyline sparkled.

Her heart lurched again in her chest.

(Best/better/best/ _better off DEAD_ )

She didn’t even have to walk into the water for her vision to cut out.

 


	10. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was there a reason not to try?

The first thing she noticed was she couldn’t breathe.

The feeling did its best to start a panic within her, but she almost didn’t care.

And, then her lungs expanded, air rushing in without her permission. It was relieving to have air, yet horrifying to not be able to control her own body.

Somehow, she was too tired to care.

 

* * *

 

Garnet came home and noticed Amethyst was the only person there (she was rummaging in the refrigerator).

It wasn’t like Pearl wouldn’t often disappear, especially in the evenings, but she had been spending so much time in her room recently that it was weird that her door was left open a crack.

(Something wasn’t right.)

She had come into her room, and she immediately saw the notes.

Panic seized Garnet.

(She knew this was coming.)

(She didn’t want to believe it.)

( ~~It was her fault for not saying anything earlier.~~ )

Oh God.

(Not her. ~~Not again.~~ )

She grabbed the notes and shoved them in her pocket. Reaching into her other pocket, she pulled out her phone and found the number to the local hospital. 

Garnet prayed that Pearl had failed.

 

* * *

 

The next time she woke up, she was more lucid.

Her eyes opened. Everything was bright.

She had needles in her arm, tubes down her throat. The worst part was the tube in her nose. She knew which one that was for.

( _oh god they have me on tube feed, oh god I’m going to get fat, oh god why are they doing this to me_ )

She groaned, fists clenching.

Why did they have to drag this out? She was already going to owe thousands and thousands of dollars for this.

She honestly didn’t understand why they didn’t let her die.

She fell asleep again. It was better than being alone with her mind.

 

* * *

 

“ _911, what is your emergency?_ ”

“Yeah, so a friend of mine is not okay. She kind of just tried to kill herself, and I think she may be a danger to herself.”

“What is your location, sir?”

_Thump!_

Both Steven and Greg’s heads shot up at the sound. Pearl had crumpled to the ground like a bird hitting a window. 

“Oh, shit,” Greg hissed.

“ _Sir?_ ” 

Steven had rushed out of the van faster than Greg could react. 

“Dad! She’s not breathing!”

“Oh, man, so she just collapsed?! Um, I’m on the beach at 8th and Main. What should I do?”

“ _Is she breathing?_ ” the dispatcher asked. 

Greg rushed over, put two fingers to check for a pulse. (No.) Put his ear down to check for the sound of breathing. (No.)

“No.” 

“ _Do you know how to perform CPR, sir?_ ”

“Uh, it’s been a while!”

"Just try to stay calm and stay on the line. I'll give you instructions."

He was sweating. Steven was crying.

(Greg performed CPR on Pearl for five minutes before the EMTs showed up. They shocked her with the defibrillator twice before her heart sputtered back to life.)

Greg Universe saved her life.

Come to think of it, both Steven and Greg Universe saved her life.

 

* * *

 

The nurse came in and gave her a small smile.

“How are you feeling, Pearl?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as a means to try to convey that she was very upset.

“Not too great, huh? Well, you’re doing well for how critical your state was.”

She wanted to know what happened, but she kind of already knew what happened.

“Basically, your heart stopped.” 

Got it. Had a feeling. The broken ribs and her aching chest were proof of that. When was she going to leave?

“Your lungs still aren’t working too well, but you’re improving.”

Yep, _got it._ She was on a damn respirator. She could fill in the blanks.

“You can’t stop eating and drinking water. You need electrolytes and food for your body to work.”

Good fucking God. She wished she could breathe by herself so she could give this woman a piece of her mind.

“I’m sure you know that, but you’re quite sick, so…”

Pearl clenched her eyes shut, trying to hold back her emotions. 

“Sorry, dear. I’ll come back later when it’s time to give you your medications.” 

She wished that she could just yank the damn feeding tube out, but knew the repercussions of noncompliance. She would get a little door to her stomach where they would put the nutrition through, and she really did not want a PEG tube.

(She already had enough carved into her chest and stomach.)

Pearl was too tired to cause any more problems. She was already treading on thin ice/ ~~had smashed through the ice and suffocated in the ice cold water.~~

(She wished.)

 

* * *

 

The next time she woke up, Garnet was sitting in the seat next to her.

She was wearing her sunglasses. She didn’t want to have an honest discussion. Well, they couldn’t really discuss anyway because Pearl had a tube shoved down her throat.

Garnet swallowed when she saw Pearl’s eyes open.

“Pearl.” Her name came out coarse and firm. There was concern in her tone, but it was mostly anger.

Pearl was having trouble keeping her eyes locked with Garnet. 

(She was so ashamed.)

“Why would you do that?”

Oh, here we go. This was what she was desperately trying to avoid ( ~~by killing herself~~ ). 

She shook her head loosely.

“You know how badly you scared us? What would we have done if we lost you?”

( _I don’t know. Moved on with your lives._ ) 

Garnet’s hand was in her pocket, probably touching that fucking note she spent so much time composing and writing with her nice pens in pretty cursive. 

“’Better off without me?’ Is that what you think? You think we would be better off without you?”

She was yelling in the quietest way possible. Garnet never yelled. She just talked like she might be yelling. 

Pearl shook her head again, shrugging a bit. 

“I thought you were dead, Pearl.”

( _I thought I was, too._ )

“I know this isn’t about me, but I—I don’t understand.”

Of course, she couldn’t. How could she?

She shook her head, feeling tears prick at her eyes. 

“We love you so much, Pearl. We understand that it’s hard, but we _still love you_. We would never want you to leave us.”

Was she lying just to make her feel better? Pearl couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not about me.” She was repeating herself. Pearl had never seen Garnet this upset in her life. Well, maybe not since Rose. “I know you must feel awful.”

Why, yes, she _did_ just have a heart attack. At twenty-seven years old. 

Pearl let her eyes drift downward. She didn’t realize she was crying until Garnet started wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Oh, Pearl. I’m sorry.”

It was hard to cry when she was on a ventilator, but she managed. She shook her head again, wishing that she could speak.

“I brought a notebook in case you want to talk.”

Did she want to write down her actual feelings? Would Garnet want to hear them?

Pearl nodded.

Garnet reached into her bag and brought out one of her old notebooks from school. She could tell because there was a Beach City College logo on the front. It felt weird to be writing on such a relic.

She found it was awkward to hold the pen in her hand, but she got used to the feeling again. She couldn’t write in cursive, though. Her handwriting was atrocious.

_I’m sorry._

Garnet’s lips were pressed into a thin line. She didn’t want to say it was okay because it wasn’t, but she also didn’t want this to eat at Pearl and cause her to get worse.

Garnet didn’t say anything.

_I really think everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around._

“ _Pearl_ , that’s ridiculous.”

_I cause so much trouble._

“You’re very sick, Pearl.” 

 _I know. But, I don’t know how to fix it._  

“You need to eat. And drink. And stop beating your body to death. The doctors said you’ve been cutting again. Hurting yourself makes it worse.”

 _I don’t know what else to do anymore._  

“We’re going to get you into treatment.”

_It’s too expensive._

“I’ll help pay for it. I have savings.”

_Why?_

“Why? Why do I want to help you?”

_You shouldn’t waste your money on me._

“Pearl. I want to help you.”

 _Why?_  

“Because I can’t just stand around and watch you die.”

Pearl didn’t write anything more. She was crying again. 

( _Why do I deserve it?_ )

 She knew better than to write that thought down.

“Pearl. Do you know how much I care about you?”

Pearl shrugged.

“I would turn this planet upside down for you,” Garnet said, leaning forward so her elbows rested on the hospital bed. “I would not be able to handle losing you, too.”

Rose was always in the back of their heads. It was hard to forget her. 

(Pearl couldn’t forget her.) 

She wished she could get herself to stop crying, but there was really no use in controlling her emotions anymore. They already knew she was a sad girl cracked open on the sidewalk, guts spilled on the pavement. 

_I miss her so much._

“I know, Pearl. I’m sorry we never talk about it. We should have a long, long time ago. I know how painful it is for you.”

Did she, though? Did she understand how her life felt ripped to shreds after she left, how her brain crumbled into dust when she died? Did she know how much she gave and gave and gave to that woman without anything in return? Did she have the crushing guilt that _~~it’s all my fault/I could have done something more/I could have said, “no”/I could have been stronger/whore/slut/bitch/lazy/fat/fat/fat/fat~~_

(There was also the whole ordeal that Pearl felt guilty for wanting her so much when she hurt her again and again and did not stop until she finally just up and left. Why did she still want to go back even though she knew what was going to happen? Why did she let Rose hurt her? Why did she beg Rose to take her even though she hated every moment of it?)

There was no way Garnet knew how much pain Rose had caused her. There was simply no way.

 _I’m sorry._  

“Why are you apologizing?”

Pearl didn’t write anything more. She just cried.

 

* * *

 

Her only other visitor was Mr. Universe.

When Greg appeared in the doorway, Pearl was sure her heart was going to stop again.

“Pearl.”

They had changed the setting on her respirator so she could initiate breaths and the machine would help her along. That meant she was recovering. Well, physically anyway. But, she still couldn’t speak, so she had kept Garnet’s old notebook. There were actually old notes in it and everything.

He realized that she could not speak fairly quickly after seeing she looked like a robot attached to all of the machines. She had so many tubes, and lines, and wires that threaded through her body, that kept her alive. It was frightening.

“You, uh, don’t look so good.”

Pearl wished she could smack him. She shot him a death glare instead.

“Right. Um.” He walked over, sitting in the chair by the bed. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”

( _I’m probably the last person you want to see right now._ )

“I just—” Greg looked very uncomfortable. “I know things suck, and I’m not trying to make you upset or anything. But, I’m just going to say it. You really need to get help.” 

Pearl just stared at him dead-eyed, like usual. This was not news.

“Steven’s really upset over the whole thing. He keeps having nightmares about you dying, and I really hate to see him like this.”

( _Oh, God. I know. I wish I could go back and never have met Steven._ ) 

She wrote, _I’m sorry._ It looked weird next to the other page that also said, _I’m sorry_ and _I miss her so much._  

Greg shifted his weight awkwardly in the chair.

“I know you are, Pearl. I understand that you’ve got a lot to deal with. I know you and Rose had a weird relationship, and I know she did things that weren’t good, and _I’m_ sorry about that. But, you can’t keep scaring Steven like this.”

_I know._

(She hated the idea that she had hurt him. She loved Steven because of his innocence and unbridled compassion, but she had never guessed that she would be the person to take that away from him.)

“I’m just saying, if you don’t want to get better for yourself, can you do it for Steven?”

Pearl paused. 

Could she?

She had never really even considered it before. She had just assumed she would die before she even had the chance to try to recover. She had accepted her fate as the failure, the girl who could not even succeed at living. The idea that she had more or less been given a second chance made her feel a bit sick to her stomach. 

Although, was that a reason for her to not even try?

Pearl looked at this man, this fat, middle-aged, balding man, the man who whisked Rose away, the man who fathered a child of sunlight and magic, and she sucked in a breath, which the ventilator finished for her.

On the notebook, she wrote, _Yes._

If she couldn’t do it for herself, she would do it for Steven.

 


	11. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had never thought that she would get this chance.
> 
> Now that she has it, she might as well start caring about herself.
> 
> It's the least she could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: discussion on eating disorder treatment

It wasn’t easy—although, no one said it was going to be. 

Getting better is actually very, very difficult. No one tells you that you have to work, and struggle, and push yourself every day to get better. It was always this nebulous idea, and honestly, Pearl had never thought she would get the opportunity to change anything. She just assumed she’d have died by now.

But, there she was, standing in front of this _facility._ It was a few towns over because Beach City didn’t have any eating disorder clinics besides the Psych Ward at the hospital, which she had spent a few horrid days in.

She clutched her pillow to her chest and watched Garnet wheel her bag in.

(She felt terrible.)

But, Garnet said it was alright even though everyone knew it wasn’t. 

( _It feels like all my fault._ )

It kind of was. But, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. She had already fucked up. After all, this little body could not survive without this. She needed to fix her brain so she could fix her body. Or, more like, she would fix her body, which would help fix her brain. Eventually. 

She had to at least try to get better. She wouldn’t want to let Steven down.

 

* * *

 

They put her on happy pills almost immediately. They didn’t really help, just made her slow and foggy. It’s a side-effect of the medication, they said.

Pearl couldn’t find a reason to care.

At the clinic, her life was very highly regulated, which Pearl enjoyed to a certain extent. It was nice to know what was happening at a certain time, all the time. The thing that sucked was, of course, all of her coping mechanisms had been stripped away. She didn’t have the ability to regulate her emotions in a systematic way. She couldn’t restrict harder if she felt bad, and she couldn’t run miles and miles to block out the intrusive thoughts.

It was annoying.

They gave her ~~magical incantations~~ positive affirmations that were supposed to reprogram her brain, so she wouldn’t feel so awful. Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly at a place where the statements seemed the least bit helpful. In fact, they felt like they were mocking her. 

‘ _Eating doesn’t have to be guilt-ridden experience._ ’

Pearl wasn’t sure if she believed that. She couldn’t remember the last time she had put anything in her mouth without feeling shame/guilt/failure. 

“Why do you think that is?”

The psychiatrist always asked her questions she didn’t know the answers to. She felt like she was gripping at straws.

“I don’t know. Dance doesn’t exactly promote healthy habits.”

The woman, hair dark and rich and pulled into a neat braid, looked at her thoughtfully.

“Do you think all dancers end up feeling like this?”

“Yes, and no. I do think more people feel inadequate because the standards are absurd, but obviously not everyone—” 

(— _gets like me._ )

“Then, what is it that makes you feel this way?”

Pearl stared at the woman, and she wondered if she could talk about it. She wondered if she could open up about the gaping hole in her heart, about the images that haunted her at night.

She felt a nervous pang in her chest. 

(Not today.) 

It was easier to repeat ~~magical incantations~~ positive affirmations than to be honest. 

‘ _I am perfect the way I am, and I deserve to eat._ ’

Yeah. Right.

 

* * *

 

The worst part was she was starting to _feel things._ It turned out that dying was a good distraction from what was actually bothering Pearl.

She stood in line, and got her tray, and looked at the food, and it looked ~~so damn good~~ absolutely disgusting. They only had thirty minutes to eat the whole plate. Pearl kept getting in trouble for not finishing soon enough.

(EATING TOO SLOWLY IS A DISORDERED BEHAVIOR)

It was one of the ~~rules~~ pieces of advice that was in the book that her therapist gave her. Pearl wanted to throw her hands up in the air and say, “Yes! Obviously! That’s why I’m here!” But, she didn’t.

She looked at the mashed potatoes, and gravy, and broccoli, and chicken, and she felt a familiar panic set in.

( _Why does food make me like this?_ )

Maybe it wasn’t about the food. At least, not really. 

( _Then, why is this so hard?_ )

Well, Pearl wasn’t too fond of herself.

( _Obviously. Why would I be?_ )

Her plastic fork stabbed a bite of chicken. No metal here. Don’t want anyone to get too sad and kill themselves. Although, Pearl thought bitterly, there are ways to kill yourself with plastic utensils, if you try hard enough.

(THAT IS A NEGATIVE THOUGHT)

Therapy was annoying in that Pearl felt like thoughts that were not her own would flit through her head. They were little land minds that, when she thought of something, they would go off and have her questioning her own behavior. 

Was that the point of therapy?

It seemed so ridiculous. Changing thought processes was very difficult. Pearl’s brain was rebelling.

‘ _Once you are weight restored, it will be easier to think clearly._ ’

She was skeptical. She knew by reading the literature that a lot of eating disordered patients did not see relief from distorted thinking until they were much heavier than their original weight. Pearl wished she couldn’t remember her start weight, but she did, and even that number made her feel ill.

She lifted her head and looked at the other lost souls that curled into themselves at the thought of eating anything. Some girls were enthusiastic about eating, but Pearl assumed they were the ones that could purge. 

(THAT IS A DISORDERED THOUGHT)

Pearl rubbed her eyes and fought very hard to keep from crying. She ended up not eating her meal. She was handed an Ensure on the way out the door. She looked at it in her hand and drifted back to her room.

 

* * *

 

“Staff tells me you haven’t been eating your meals.”

Pearl picked at her nail beds and frowned.

“The Ensure is easier to get down.”

The psychiatrist—Dr. Maheswaran was her name—looked at her with a small look of disappointment.

“While that is better than nothing, you can’t just rely on supplements all your life. That is a disordered behavior.”

“I know,” she mumbled into her lap. 

“Food is necessary for your body to work and heal.” 

“I know.”

“Maybe you need your medication adjusted.”

“It doesn’t really help.”

“We can put you on a higher dosage of Prozac. Add on Wellbutrin, maybe.”

Pearl shrugged, and Dr. Maheswaren frowned slightly.

“Do you care at all about your recovery?”

She shrugged again.

“I can’t let everyone down.”

“You can’t recover for other people. You have to recover for yourself.”

Pearl rolled her eyes. 

“Well, in that case, no. I don’t care. I am exclusively doing this for other people.”

“Pearl.” Her name came out as a sigh. It struck Pearl as wildly unprofessional.

“I’m sorry. I wish I cared more,” she smiled, shaking her head loosely. The meds made her so tired. She wanted to crawl back to her room and sleep forever. “I just don’t.”

“So, who are you recovering for?”

Pearl frowned again, hands still fumbling in her lap.

“There’s this boy. He is very young, and I hurt him. I feel like getting better is the least I can do.”

Dr. Maheswaran sat there quietly, watching her body language.

“And, of course, there’s Garnet. She’s always doing so much for me. She’s helping me pay for treatment. I feel obligated to at least try.”

“Those are both good starts, but I would really like to see you try for yourself.”

She sighed.

“I’ll work on it.”

That seemed to be enough to shut her up because she smiled.

“Good work today, Pearl. I appreciate your honesty.”

Pearl wished she could say the same. She left the office and went back to bed. When she pressed her head into the pillow, she couldn’t help but think that the sheets smelled like freshly pressed linen, almost the same scent as the detergent Rose would use.

(It struck Pearl as strange that Rose’s sheets smelled so clinical.)

She fell asleep anyway, even though dreams of her would often haunt her.

 

* * *

 

The only person who would visit regularly was Garnet. She tried her best to make it when she could, but Pearl understood that a forty-five-minute drive one way was a bit ridiculous. 

Amethyst would only visit for “family therapy,” but she would always sit there in a stubborn silence – unless provoked.

Garnet was usually quiet, so this didn’t bother Pearl as much as Amethyst’s reluctance to talk. She understood that she hurt her in ways that she was probably unable to understand, but Pearl never meant to hurt anyone. 

Amethyst probably didn’t care if she meant to or not.

But, Dr. Maheswaren was not one to give up a good fight. 

“Amethyst, you look upset. Is there something on your mind?”

“Not really.”

She looked over at Pearl, who was refusing to make eye contact.

“How does Amethyst’s refusal to participate make you feel, Pearl?”

Amethyst almost growled, but Pearl answered anyway.

“Not very good,” she muttered. It was nice that she was rewarded for speaking her feelings, but it usually brought up things that she didn’t want to think about. Pearl wasn’t sure if she was trying to help or torture her sometimes.

There was a silence because Amethyst still wouldn’t say anything. Pearl decided that it was her job to fill the silence. 

(Like usual.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you guys.”

Count that as Amethyst being provoked.

“Well, _whatever_. You did!” she snapped, hand flying out in front of her in exasperation. “You fucking tried to kill yourself and leave us _behind_ —” 

“Amethyst,” Garnet shot back. Amethyst just huffed and crossed her arms. 

Pearl looked vacantly at the floor. She hated that it had to be like this, that everything had to be so awful, but she understood that she must have been causing so many problems and so many negative emotions.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Like hell you are! You still _did it_. If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place. _And_ , you’re putting on this whole show for everyone. Even though you act like things are different, _nothing’s changed_ —”

“Amethyst,” Dr. Maheswaren cut in, “while I understand you are experiencing a lot of anger and confusion, taking it out on Pearl does not help the either of you.” 

“She does the same thing to me! She’s just pretending to be all innocent now because she’s got people on her side—because she doesn’t want to look bad in front of people. Well, guess what, _Pearl_ —” Amethyst sat up straighter and leaned forward, as if Pearl could see her while looking at the ground, “—you already do, so drop the act.” 

Pearl didn’t particularly want to admit how much Amethyst’s words hurt, but the tears that fell into her lap and her shaking shoulders were certainly an indication.

“Amethyst, do you realize that you’re being hurtful towards Pearl?”

“Uh, duh. That’s the point.” 

Dr. Maheswaren wrote in her notebook, and it made everyone nervous. 

“Garnet,” she said, “how do you feel about all of this?”

She sucked in a breath and crossed her arms as well.

“I think both Pearl and Amethyst have a lot of feelings that they often channel in unproductive ways.”

“But, not you, though?”

“I didn’t say that.” Garnet, even though her facial expression remained unchanged, seemed to be getting increasingly uncomfortable. It wasn’t something that Garnet often expressed. “I’m not always honest. I’ll admit that, but I try to do what is best for everyone.”

This was not a surprise, and yet, it somehow was. Garnet was very rarely open about her feelings, but maybe there were good reasons for it. 

Since Garnet did not elaborate further, Dr. Maheswaren cleared her throat and began to speak once again. 

“It seems like the three of you have a strained dynamic—”

“Ya think?” Amethyst chimed in.

“—and this is leading to a lot of frustration among you.” 

Pearl rubbed her cheeks, trying to calm herself down.

“While it is the most obvious that Pearl has caused distress, there seems to be underlying issues that haven’t been discussed yet.”

“Oh hoh!” Amethyst began again, a false smile plastered on her face. “She hasn’t told you about Rose, has she?”

“Amethyst!” both Garnet and Pearl hissed simultaneously.

For once, Dr. Maheswaren seemed caught off guard. 

“Rose?” 

“Yeah. She’s this bitch that beat Pearl even though she was in love with her—” 

This time, Garnet grabbed Amethyst’s arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send her a message.

The room was tensely silent. Pearl couldn’t even find it in herself to cry because the words felt like a slap across her face.

“ _Amethyst._ ” Garnet’s glare could even be sensed from behind her sunglasses. “Do _not_ talk about Rose that way. And, _do not_ trivialize what Pearl has gone through.”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Dr. Maheswaren muttered, shutting her notebook. She got up, indicating that the rest of them should do the same. Only Garnet and Amethyst followed suit. Pearl was lost in her thoughts and didn’t notice.

The next thing she remembered was Dr. Maheswaren crouching in front of her, Pearl still sitting in her chair.

“Pearl? Are you still with me? Pearl?”

She blinked, suddenly aware that she had lost time. 

“Oh…oh, I-I’m sorry…” 

“It’s alright, Pearl. You just had me a bit worried.”

Slowly, she helped her up, so they were both standing.

“I’m sorry about how this turned out,” Pearl muttered.

“It’s not your fault, Pearl. Hopefully, we can make more progress after this.”

“Yeah…”

Pearl spent the rest of that day in a daze. She wasn’t sure why Amethyst’s words affected her so much, but they seemed to crawl into her chest and lay there next to her heart. It made her entire body ache. 

But, she did eat that night. She ate almost her entire tray. 

Maybe this was a sign that things could get better.

 

* * *

 

Even worse than the therapy and the eating was the weight gain.

She knew she had gained weight after being on a tube feed for almost two weeks. The doctors assured her that most of her initial discomfort would be from retaining water and from her gut waking back up. Who knew that intestines atrophied from prolonged disuse?

It was often that Pearl would find herself curled up in bed, an awful stomach ache from just a “normal” amount of food. Sometimes she couldn’t tell if she was crying from the physical pain or the disappointment of having to give up counting her ribs underneath her skin.

They blind weighed everyone because they weren’t idiots. Even though her weight was measured in kilograms, they wouldn’t even say the weight out loud because anyone who had ever calculated their BMI several times a day for years knew that if you just multiplied by a number in kilograms by 2.2, you got pounds. Even the faculty knew that.

They were smart, not like regular nurses in regular hospitals who didn’t understand what it felt like to be dangerously fixated on one specific number.

Not knowing her weight drove Pearl up a wall, but on the other hand, it was easier to ignore her reality when she didn’t have to face the quantitative data.

The qualitative data—well, that was the issue. 

Her clothes were tight, so that meant she was gaining weight, but without mirrors, she had no idea what she looked like at all. When her hands would run over her body, some days she felt thin and sometimes she didn’t. It was awful. She wished she had a number to tell her everything was alright, but that was “triggering,” so no one knew their weights.

When she had “free time,” and she could sit around and read books or talk with the other girls, the numbers seemed to be on everyone’s minds. This one girl Pearl often talked to had her bright blonde hair neatly done in a French twist every single day, and she was constantly on about how unfair it was that she didn’t know her weight.

“It’s not like it makes any difference!” she exclaimed. Pearl frowned because her nasally voice grated on her nerves. “But, _I’m_ worse off not knowing. Even my therapist back home said so!”

“Right…” 

Her hair was badly dyed, so everyone called her Yellow, even though Pearl was pretty sure that wasn’t her real name.

“I mean, _honestly_. I am a full grown adult. I can handle one number. Jesus.”

Pearl wanted to say, ‘obviously not,’ but she decided she should probably keep her mouth shut. She didn’t really want to make enemies when she was trapped in this building for God-knows-how-long.

“They do it for a reason,” Pearl offered, pretending to read her book, so she’d stop talking. 

“But, I’m not like everyone else! I’m not as sick as people seem to think.” 

Ah, yes, the delusion.

“Right.”

Yellow pursed her lips, crossing her arms indignantly.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No! No, of course not. I believe you,” Pearl smiled, closing her book. She was getting nothing done.

“Well, I don’t know. No one seems to believe me here. It’s like I’m living in a different world as everyone else.” 

Pearl could relate to the sentiment, but she was not experiencing things in the same way Yellow seemed to be. She knew that she had a lot of issues that needed to be fixed. To be fair, nobody in the clinic seemed to be living on the same plane of existence as anyone else. Everyone was off in their own little worlds almost all the time. It was weird being in the same room with so many people who felt they were invincible even when their mere presence was an indication that they were not.

She offered a sympathetic smile but had nothing more to say. She also wanted to know her weight, but she understood why she couldn’t. 

Most of the other girls were not as willing to talk. Pearl noticed a girl with bright blue hair that covered her eyes, and even when Pearl sat on the chair near her to read her book, the girl didn’t move.

Pearl thought it would be best to leave her alone.

(It was sad, though, because Pearl desperately wanted to be around people, to talk to others so she could get out of her head, but most of the time, she was only talking to her psychiatrist. It was incredibly isolating.) 

Sometimes Yellow’s chatter was appreciated, but most of the time, it annoyed her to no end. 

Guess this was just another punishment for messing up her body and her life.

Figures.

 

* * *

 

“So, what can you tell me about Rose?”

Pearl fidgeted where she sat. She really didn’t want to talk about Rose with a total stranger even though she knew it was supposed to help. 

“S-She was wonderful,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “She helped me out a lot when I was in high school.”

Dr. Maheswaren sat up in her chair, taking a few notes.

“Is what Amethyst said true?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Has she hurt you?” 

Pearl frowned. “A bit, I guess.” 

(Understatement of the century.) 

“Pearl. Abuse is not something to be taken lightly.”

“Well, it’s alright.” Pearl’s laugh was inappropriate. “She’s dead, so it wouldn’t really matter, would it?”

Dr. Maheswaren let out a small sigh.

“Pearl—”

Before she knew what was happening, she was crying again. She did a lot of crying in therapy.

“Guess I’m not really over it, huh?” She laughed again, trying to ignore that her eyes were leaking.

“That’s why we’re trying to help you, Pearl. We want you to be able to deal with things like this.”

Pearl nodded solemnly, feeling that itch in her chest that she got whenever she had to think about Rose. She so desperately wished she could continue to ignore the memories and ignore the bad feelings, but that would not happen. Not here, at least. And, as much as she tried not to think about Rose back home, she always did. She was always in the back of her brain, haunting her dreams, and haunting her waking hours, and always, always, always haunting her. 

She had been lost in her thoughts until Dr. Maheswaren spoke up once again.

“Rose doesn’t have to rule your life anymore.”

And there it was.

“Oh.”

That was what she had actually been wanting, been needing to hear. It was like she had a key to her mind, and she had just turned it in the lock.

“You’re your own person, Pearl. You have control over your thoughts. Rose can’t control you.”

That was—that was true. Rose _didn’t_ have any control over her. Rose wasn’t around anymore. It wasn’t like her ghost was _literally_ haunting her. 

“I know what she did was harmful to you, but those things already happened. We can work through them together, and then, she doesn’t have to bother you anymore.”

Pearl stared at Dr. Maheswaren, a look of disbelief on her face. What did she have to lose?

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

After they began to deconstruct the effect Rose had on her life, everything else started to become a little bit easier.

She found it was easier to follow her meal plan. Putting food in her mouth didn’t feel as dreadful as it used to. Pearl was actually beginning to eat most of her food most of the time. Sure, sometimes she still had those disordered thoughts, and sometimes she still wondered if she would be better off dead, but the thoughts came less often.

It didn’t hurt so much to try.

She hadn’t realized before that Rose’s influence on her caused the doors to her mind to be ripped off their hinges. She had never felt so exposed as she did around Rose, and when she had died, she was left as a newborn bird, quivering and terrified of the dangers of the world.

What Pearl hadn’t understood about treatment before was that she was actively working to rebuild the structures of her psyche. She didn’t have to stuff her mind with rules and regulations and self-harm and danger. That wasn’t to say that she was completely cured, but it was more like being able to take two steps forward while before she had been sprinting backward until she flung herself off the edge.

As painful as it was to think, it was refreshing to know that Rose didn’t need to inhabit her every thought, her every action. As obvious as it seemed, she had never considered it before. 

Amethyst may have still been pissed at her, and Garnet was still as stoic as ever, but Dr. Maheswaren assured her that it would get better with time. Pearl decided that she would believe her until proven otherwise. It was better than thinking that they may never love her again.

 

* * *

 

Pearl sat cross-legged on one of the chairs by the window during free time. It was also visiting hours, but Garnet said she couldn’t make it that day, so she just occupied herself as per usual. She was almost done with the book she had been reading. Garnet would have to bring her another one the next time she came around, Pearl decided.

As she flipped to the next page, she hadn’t realized that two people had entered the room.

“Pearl!”

Her head shot up.

“Steven?”

She couldn’t believe her own eyes and ears.

“Shh, Stu-ball, you can’t be so loud.”

The little boy decidedly ignored his father, running over and practically leaping into Pearl’s arms. He threw his arms around her, not even letting her get out of her seat before he did so.

“Pearl! I missed you so much! You’ve been gone for so long!”

She was stunned into silence. It was hard to believe that she would ever see Steven again, let alone so soon. She had convinced herself that she had completely fucked up any chance she would ever have to amend her friendship with the boy, so she considered this to be completely out of the blue.

“I-It’s only been a month, Steven.”

“But, still! I used to see you almost every day.” 

“T-That’s true.” When Steven let go of her, she once again felt her eyes burn. “S-Steven, I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. Don’t you hate me…?”

“No way! Just because you got sick doesn’t mean you would stop being my friend!” 

So much relief flooded over her that she couldn’t help but burst into tears. 

“Oh no! Pearl, why are you crying?”

Pearl got off the chair, crouched down and gave Steven another hug. He returned it with as tight a grip as he could manage. He was quite strong for being so young.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m j-just so happy t-to see you again.” 

Steven patted her on the back softly. Pearl could feel his cheeks turn upward in a smile.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he said but then paused when he realized what he had just said. “Or, happier than you were.”

Pearl pulled back, looking at him in the eyes as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. 

“I’m so happy. All because of you, Steven. You helped me so much.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You made me want to try to get better.” 

Steven’s grin stretched from ear to ear. They both looked over at Greg. Even he was smiling. 

“Thank you so much, you two,” Pearl said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”

Greg put a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t pull away this time because her shoulder wasn’t as sharp as it used to be.

“Garnet said you had been doing a lot better lately, so we thought we’d pay you a visit. Steven really wanted to see you.”

Pearl had never thought that after all that she put this little boy through that he’d ever forgive her. Especially after Greg had visited her in the hospital, she felt like there was no way that he’d ever let Steven get anywhere near her. It was almost surreal that his big star eyes were staring up at her. 

“You’re doing so well, Pearl,” Steven grinned, patting her on the head.

“I should say the same thing about you,” she returned the smile, getting back on the chair. “What have you been learning in school lately?”

“Well, you wouldn’t believe it! We’re learning about different kinds of rocks!”

Pearl sat back and smiled, listening to the excited ramblings of a boy who still radiated with the happiness and energy that she remembered. While she didn’t fully forgive herself for what happened those many weeks ago, it was comforting to know that Steven and Greg still cared about her.

It was enough for Pearl to believe that maybe she could care about herself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thank you so much for supporting me through this whole fic. I hadn't ever planned on finishing this fic when I started last year, so it really means a lot to me that it's been met with so much praise! I love all of you so much :) 
> 
> Thanks y'all. See ya on the flip side


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